


Beneath Veils and Blue There Was a Land

by dean_and_cas_at_the_sea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bickering, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel is badass, Crowley is a Mage, Dean Winchester Has Powers, Fae Castiel (Supernatural), Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Sharing Body Heat, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 65,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28389975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dean_and_cas_at_the_sea/pseuds/dean_and_cas_at_the_sea
Summary: AU Fantasy. Slow Burn.The kingdom Taleria suffers from poverty and the queen’s harsh regency. Dean who abhors the injustices and has led a demanding, yet quiet life so far gets send on a journey. His companion Castiel, a mysterious guy from another region, infuriates and confuses him from the beginning.After finishing their original task Dean learns more about his roots  – and he realizes there is much more to himself and also to Castiel than he had ever anticipated. They slowly learn to trust each other while overcoming their prejudices, and fall in love along the way.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 46
Kudos: 57





	1. Encounters in the forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! :) I've been working on this fantasy AU for almost two years now. 
> 
> I don't want to give away too much. It's mostly told from Dean's POV in the beginning, but we'll also have much Cas and Crowley (since he is the antagonist and tbh, I loved writing him here).
> 
> Taleria, the people etc will be explained bit by bit, not everything is important in the beginning.
> 
> Their journey will contain obstacles, action, monsters/creatures, companionship, new acquaintances, riddles, some magic and of course love. :) Like mentioned in the tags: This is a Slow Burn, so please keep that in mind. Cas will already make his appearance in chapter 1, though. :) 
> 
> I'm happy if you accompany me on this journey. :)
> 
> Enjoy! I'm so excited :))

**Dean**

Panting, Dean ran through the Mantle Forest. He ran and ran, although his legs ached as if they had been bathed in acid. If only Lake Illen or some other body of water were nearby. He could easily change into his swimming form and be up and away. What was he to do? Panic rose in him.

Don’t lose your nerve, he reminded himself. Breathe in, breathe out. He had to think. Dean felt the flesh wound on his arm. Birifas smelled blood from many yards away. Annoyed, he pursed his lips and paused for a moment. He had to draw the birifa away, distract it - only how? Assessing, he glanced to his left and breathed a sigh of relief: a small tree house.

With a hasty movement, he tore off the blood-soaked part of his shirt. As a precaution, he soaked the piece of linen with more blood from his wound. Then he threw the scrap of cloth far away so that the birifa could pick up the scent there. A loud roaring sounded at close range, after which Dean heard some bushes fall to the ground. No time to lose.

With the last of his strength, he climbed up the narrow rope ladder. Here the birifa would not be able to grab him. Hopefully. That birifas were water-shy, he knew for sure. Whether these monsters avoided heights, he was not able to judge. He shook his head. Now he had to hope that his distraction worked and that the tree house was high enough. He was about to take the last sip from his drinking bottle when a deep throat clearing startled him.

"Now, now, who just invades someone else’s territory?“ The voice sounded raspy, reminding Dean of a grater. Cautiously, Dean turned to face a bearded man marked by many scars. He didn’t get to answer because Mr. Grater held his hand over his mouth. "Not a word. I hear something.“

Impatiently, Dean slapped the man’s hand away. "That’s a birifa, idiot. I wasn’t trying to break in anywhere, only hiding.“ He pointed to his arm. The wound was no longer bleeding as badly. It was deep, though, and needed to be taken care of if he didn’t want to risk infection. "I see.“ Grater scrunched his eyebrows together. "You’ve got a pretty decent bow, don’t you? Tell me one thing, lad...“ He held a dagger to Dean’s throat. "Why shouldn’t I just throw you to the birifa?“

"I ain’t a lad, I’m a man,“ Dean growled. His heart beat faster and faster, his hands shook. The man could hurt him at any moment, if not kill him. He could not let his fear show under any circumstances. "Regular arrows cannot harm the birifa,“ he continued lecturing.

Birifas were large creatures, nearly two and a half feet tall. They possessed bristly black fur. Their arms and head were covered with leather skin. In addition, the birifa’s claws and teeth were poisonous and could not be defeated with conventional weapons. Dean’s statement seemed to irritate Grater for a moment. So much so that he even briefly lowered his hand with the dagger.

Stalling for time was good, Grater seemed to respond to his talk. Dean’s throat was completely parched from the race and his nervousness. He needed water. The man recollected himself, and again Dean felt the blade against his neck. "Look at that, didn’t the little smart-ass bring any bargaron knives or dolken arrows, huh? What bad luck!“ He grinned and ran his tongue over his yellowish teeth.

Dean rolled his eyes. By now he was convinced that Grater was a blabber. Threatening demeanor, but nothing behind it. He was probably a thief. Someone just waiting to make a deal to enrich himself. "If you wanted to throw me down or kill me, you would have done it by now.“ Dean squirmed, but still Grater held the blade to his neck.

"I can help ya,“ Dean claimed boldly, panting. That gave the man pause. Suspiciously, he eyed Dean.  
"I brought some riodophis plants and silver shells. They’re worth quite a bit these days, as you may know. All yours if you let me go.“

Grater looked at Dean thoughtfully. "Don’t think so long,“ Dean said beckoningly. "A bandit like you ought to be glad of a chance.“  
"I’m no mere bandit,“ Grater protested, and Dean knew he had him hooked. "I belong to the Wolf Claws.“  
"Never heard of 'em,“ Dean said disinterestedly, shrugging. "You guys can’t take on the elf soldiers anyway.“

"What do you know about them? Do you work for them?“ Grater was upset. Uh-huh, Dean had hit a nerve. He didn’t know any more than most of the others, but to say that out loud would be stupid. So he kept a low profile.  
"I know important people, hence I know a lot. Do you want the stuff or not?“

"You think I’m stupid, don’t you?“ The man spoke more hastily, more choppily. "I may not be the boss, but I do good work. You give me the stuff, and you come with me to our camp. Maybe your information will be good for something. Borobur will appreciate it,“ the bandit surmised.

Dean had feared that. That the Wolf Claw wanted to keep him alive to squeeze information out of him was better than being killed. But how would they react if they found out he had been faking his knowledge? It was unthinkable what they would do to him. Bandits like him were not good people. On the contrary. They only wanted more and more.

Like the damn queen, Dean thought bitterly. How would she hold her own in this situation? Inevitably, a laugh escaped him.

"You think that’s a joke? You water roamers are a funny bunch. Cut the chatter and hand over the ingredients.“ Dean had a flash of inspiration.

"My leather pouch fell down to the ground,“ Dean lied without flinching. In truth, the pouch was in the compartment on the inside of his belt, as it always was.  
"Come on,“ Dean teased. Grater had become surprisingly silent. "The birifa is gone, or it would be by the end of the ladder by now.“

Despite their size and enormous weight, birifas were fast. Only dexterity could not be attributed to them.  
"All right,“ the Wolf Claw relented. "It’s getting too dull up here anyway. Always watching.“ The man grumbled to himself. "I’ll go first,“ he determined. He began the descent.

This was Dean’s only chance. He quickly reached into his boot and pulled out the small knife. It had to work. As soon as Dean reached the ground, the bandit stood in front of him with his dagger raised. Dean’s eyes snapped open. "The birifa. Behind you!“

Startled, the man turned around. Immediately Dean jammed the knife into his right leg. That should slow him down. Groaning, the bandit fell to the ground, dropping his dagger. "Wait, you son of a bitch, you’re not getting away from me that fast.“ He threw himself between Dean’s legs, so he couldn’t run any further and fell to the ground as well. The bandit crawled up behind him and bit him hard on the arm.

Dean shook himself and kicked out backward. Let it work, he begged inwardly. His wounded arms hurt like hell, his legs still emaciated from running. Doggedly, Dean searched for another weapon. There, a rock. He continued to crawl, dragging Grater with him. Quickly he grabbed the stone and, turning on his back, threw. The stone hit in the middle of the attacker’s face. For safety, Dean kicked again.

"Ah,“ Grater shouted. "You bastard! What have you done to me? My eyes!“  
"Better not to mess with the force of Dean. I’m way too awesome for the likes of you.“

At last the waperite essence in which the knife had been dipped took effect. It caused temporary paralysis of the affected body part and put the victim to sleep. "If I catch you! Watch out, Borobur will find you!“

Laughing, Dean ran on and was finally able to continue his way. After putting a few hundred yards between himself and the bandit, Dean stopped. He drank the last of his water. His whole body was shaking without stopping.

Beads of sweat stood on his forehead, and he could hardly breathe. He had to be more careful. A fucking birifa and then a bandit as well. He had been lucky that it had only been a single bandit. With better armed and more cunning candidates he would have been lost.

Groaning and cursing, Dean dragged himself forward, though he could barely stand upright. His exhaustion ate away at him, making him uncoordinated and careless. At one point he was almost overpowered by a mendug, the smallest damn predator in the country. Only at the last moment did he remember his dagger.

In the midst of the darkness and pain, the bright and beautiful sight that now presented itself to him was exactly what he needed. What he had wished for, maybe. At first, it was just a glimmer, radiating different colors like white and blue and a bit of silver, but mostly an incredible purple.

Also, he heard melodic sounds, so exotic and familiar simultaneously, which hypnotized him. The little noises went directly from his ears into his heart, and they also soaked through every fiber of his body, wrapping themselves around his being, remaining there as if never to leave again. His body blazed, his chest clenched because he felt a sweet yearning.

What was it? Had anybody cast a spell over this part of the forest? Protection or trap? Quickly, Dean dismissed the latter thought because the shimmer was far too apparent for that. Nobody was that stupid. The closer he got to this phenomenon, the more he noticed.

It wasn’t the typical monster which lived in these woods, hopefully not dangerous by nature, but obviously some kind of creature. Judging by the soft panting, it was injured. Dean saw blurred outlines of a body, male in stature, a tunic and tendril patterns, black. On skin?

Yes, there was no doubt, the creature possessed skin like himself, also the breathing sounded as if it – he? – had a heart. Was this a human-like creature? The delicate patterns captivated him, calling him closer.

Dean knelt down and surveyed the creature. It was leaning against a tree, but Dean saw nothing, entirely as if he were looking at a fading image, an illusion. And the face, he saw no face. Was this real? Or was he already hallucinating in pain?

The colors, they were so beautiful and filled him with happiness, a kind of happiness that was foreign to him. Furthermore, the glow seemed magical. He cleared his throat whereupon the creature made an agonized noise.

"Do you understand me?“ he asked without mincing words.  
Dean heard a sound he interpreted as "Mm.“  
"Fantastic,“ he replied, leaning closer to the creature. "The name’s Dean. Listen there, buddy, could you lift the veil? This way it’s hard to check you for injuries.“ No response. Dean sighed, "I’m not gonna hurt you, ya know.“ Probably, he thought to himself. Still no response.

Dean growled. This was more complicated than he had thought. He wanted, needed, to know who he was dealing with.  
"What- who are you?“ he continued again, keeping his voice steady.

The creature moved, pressing itself tighter against the tree behind him. As it did, the shimmer flickered, and for the fraction of a second Dean caught a glimpse of a face. Blue, an incredible blue mesmerized him, pulled him closer, and was so clear, so bright, despite the night. This sight stirred him up and within a few seconds threw Dean’s entire existence over, turned him inside out and back again, left him pure and wanting. Wanting – what?

Dean’s breath fluttered, though the creature had long since regained its protection veil or whatever it was.  
"Fine,“ Dean said. "I- Will you be okay? You’re kinda worrying me here.“ Now the creature moved, pointed his arm to Dean’s body, gesturing up and down, as if to prove that Dean was severely hurt, too. "Me? Nah, that’s nothing, really.“

Dean huffed, feeling slightly flustered, since other persons, meaning his father, normally weren’t interested in his wounds or his emotional pain. Even more so, Dean often got scoldings for it, many angry looks were the daily business, hence he became completely baffled out here.

Did this stranger really care for his well-being? Why would he be interested in him? Dean wasn’t special, far from it, he only did what he thought he could do best, but never expected to be valued or remembered for it. He made jokes, had a snappy mouth, and presented himself carefree although he didn’t feel like it most of the time.  
And it was okay, it was the way it was, except for the quiet days when he wished someone would see through his facade.

At his moment in the forest, he felt excited and also liberated. Nobody was here, nobody to judge him, nobody to slow him down in the unwished-for curiousness.

Licking his lips, Dean crawled even closer to the creature. "You-you’re mostly human, aren’t you? You’re like me. I kinda sense it.“ Raising his arm, he reached out and placed his hand on the creature’s body. Tenderly, he caressed the other’s arm, letting his hand wander over his torso for a while.

A tingling sensation went through his body and although he could barely see anything, both because of the protection shield and the darkness, he felt the other’s presence as if they were looking directly at each other. On top of that, his skin was so smooth, felt incredible. Dean’s stomach did somersaults. What was happening here?

"Yes,“ he felt - heard? - a gravelly voice. He maintained physical contact, not knowing if it was helping the other person at all.  
"Okay,“ Dean said. "I can work with that. You need some potion maybe? It’s good, I made it myself. I’m a water roamer, it comes with the job description.“

The person didn’t answer, but his breathing had quickened even more. Dean rummaged in his pouch until he found the small vial. “I’m gonna leave it here, 'kay?“ Dean set the vial down right next to his new acquaintance.

"You gotta give me a sign there, shimmer boy, otherwise I’ll worry all night. Well, maybe not all night, I mean, I don’t know you at all, but you get the gist.“ That had been a lie since, in fact, Dean was so shaken up he could definitely not think about anything else today and the next days.

"Of course. Thank you, Dean.“ The way shimmer boy emphasized his name triggered warmth and desire and complete confusion in him. "Don’t mention it.“  
"However, I should probably heal myself.“ The guy’s voice had gotten even deeper, almost smoky, and Dean knew that certainly never before had all the hairs on his body stood up. "Yeah, as far as I see it, you’re too weak now, so spare your strength for next time.“

With that, the creature, the guy, backed away from him. "I know I’m weak,“ he hissed. "I do not understand why I am in this state, why I look like this.“ And suddenly he was hidden entirely. Dean let out a frustrated groan which quickly turned into a sigh. "Sorry, man. Was just trying to help.“ Once again he made an attempt to get something out of him until he gave up.

"See ya,“ he said, though he didn’t expect to ever meet this guy again. This was too bad, really, he thought to himself. If Dean was being honest to himself, he had never been this agitated and thrilled by an encounter in his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think! :)
> 
> As for Cas: His true nature will only be revealed later on, in fact, he is partly human. 
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. :)


	2. Taleria as it should be and actually was

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly for getting to know Dean and his surroundings better. Sam is a lot younger than Dean in my fic, btw. Only a child. :) Also, there'll be some information about Taleria and the conditions which is necessary for the plot. :)

**Dean**

It was the dead of night when Dean arrived home. "What do you look like?“ his father greeted him, pointing to his dirty clothes. "And what about your arm?“  
"Fell,“ Dean fibbed.  
"There’s ointment in the bathroom. Wash up and then off to bed.“  
"Yeah, dad,“ Dean replied with a laugh, though he didn’t feel like laughing at all. He felt like sobbing, but like always he swallowed his emotions. "I’m not ten anymore.“  
"You’re not? Sometimes I have my doubts about that. Don’t you have anything better to do than roam around until all hours of the night?“

"Sorry,“ Dean said a little meekly. He didn’t want to disappoint his father. He was always afraid his dad would get angry, would give him that look or more which made him feel like a fucking failure.

"That’s all right. Now go on.“ His father clapped him on the back harshly. Suddenly, his brother’s bright voice spoke up. "What are you doing?“ Sammy was wearing his sleeping clothes, his snuggle blanket tucked under his arm.  
"Nothing,“ Dean and his father exclaimed in unison. He was too young to get into the repeating fights between him and their dad. It wasn’t right, Sammy had been a baby when-

Dean gave Sammy a kiss on the forehead and then shuffled into the washroom. In there he could finally cry, quietly scream and let out all his frustration. He punched the wall several times until he could breathe properly again.

This wasn’t right. He couldn’t always pretend he was fine, only to please his father. They weren’t fighting right now, yeah, they actually got along quite well. And Dean respected his father for his knowledge and skills. Other than that they arranged themselves.

There was always a tension between them, always things left unspoken, but Dean certainly would not be the one to break the silence. His dad was the one who had completely shut himself off back then. And Dean wouldn’t, couldn’t forget. He had neglected them, and the only reason Dean was still here was Sammy. He needed him and Dean had to make sure he was okay.

After dinner the next day, Dean put Sammy to bed and told him a bedtime story of sailors who braved many dangers on the sea and received assistance from the sea Goddess Uisca. "You know we exist at all because of the sea goddess, it was her power that created our beautiful island of Taleria, gave us our lands and abilities.“  
"Is that why we are privileged?“ Sammy asked the thing to which he had no real answer.

"That’s not how the Goddess thinks, she wants justice and unity. Be proud of who you are and honor the land in everything you do. There is still some magic hidden somewhere. We must be grateful for what we have. Our ancestors made civilization possible, created much good.“

"Why is the queen not honoring the land, but destroying it?“ For his age of only 10, Sammy clearly possessed too much acumen, asking things that even adults were afraid to ask. He stroked Sammy’s hair and chose his words carefully, telling him what he had figured out for himself from this mess in the land. That it could not really be true, he knew, but he did not know anyone who could enlighten him in this regard.  
"Because she has forgotten that peace made the country prosper. She believes that power ensures preservation, while here in the middle of the sea we are threatened only by hostility from within.“

"Are you going to the feast with Benny and Garth?“ his father asked him after Dean had put Sammy to bed. Dean nodded and continued to poke at his leftovers.  
"Good, it would be nice if you met a nice lady there, don’t you think?“  
Dean rolled his eyes. He knew this tune by heart by now. "Yes, dad, that would be nice, but I have my doubts.“

"We’ll see. You know I’ll have to find you a match if you don’t find a marriage candidate by the end of the summer.“ Dean sighed and would have preferred to crawl into his room. He knew his father meant no harm. Still, he didn’t want to be brought up on this subject over and over again.

He was 25 years old and didn’t want to marry a perfect stranger he didn’t know. His youth had been fucking exhausting. Since he had completely spent himself in training, fighting and his free time diving, he had hardly had any time left for other things. He had always had fun, but there had been many phases that had drained him physically and mentally.

Dean knew he was a mess which was why he was more of a loner. Sure, he had Benny and Garth, but those were more practical friendships, nothing too deep. He was better off alone, he didn’t want to trust anybody too deeply. He had learned from his mistakes. Hence, marrying a stranger was a nightmare for him.

On the contrary, he wanted something good, something serious, something which made his whole body tingle, but for that he needed to find a person thrilling and intriguing enough. This had never been the case so far – except for the encounter with shimmer boy. Dean chuckled to himself because this was the weirdest thought process he’d had in a long time.

"I know,“ Dean answered reluctantly. He rigorously ignored the fact that it was spring and the end of summer was just a few months away. "This sucks ass.“

"Dean, language!“ his father admonished him. His father detested vulgar language and always admonished him when such expressions slipped out. "All right, all right,“ Dean grumbled, shoving another piece of potato into his mouth.

"I just don’t see what the point is. Okay, it used to be good custom around here to get married by 25 at the latest, but it wasn’t mandatory then.“ His fork fell out of his hand and landed on the floor. He hissed in annoyance and bent down. Still angry, he came back out from under the table. "And now it’s suddenly in the law, and for all groups, too. Where’s the frigging point in that? Nobody even cares to explain that crap.“

"You don’t have to give me the same sermon every few weeks, Dean,“ his father said resignedly. "I’d like a different future for you, too. But what the queen dictates is inevitable.“ The stupid queen could stay away from him. What Dean knew of her was anything but positive. She was cold and imperious and knew no mercy.

Her closest servants always had to slave away. In addition, her nobles and the soldiers, relentless Pure Noses, paid strict attention to the fact that each population group fulfilled debit. Meaning there were rules for the duties. His people lived in the area around Lake Illen, which directly bordered the sea. A large part of the finds that the water roamers made were counted among the levies to the royal palace. A percentage of the potions that brewers like his father mixed together were collected.

When Dean had first learned of these injustices, he had been outraged. He had wanted to know if the queen gave any reasons for the levies, but no one had been able to give him an answer. The capital of Taleria was unimaginably rich. It wouldn’t enter Dean’s head why the queen needed these kinds of levies in the first place. The queen had been in power for decades. A time before her was almost forgotten. No one dared to oppose her, let alone anyone could even get close enough to her.

By cunningly kidnapping a Nuvolin from Glaciria, the queen secured her power. The Nuvolin granted her and the castle a power aura that formed a protective wall, so to speak. She never left her castle. Thus, she had managed to spread more and more terror over the years and always remained unharmed. All he knew was that he did not like the queen. His family didn’t own much gold, but they made ends meet. Instead, he knew many families who were poor and whose possessions were barely enough to survive.

"Why doesn’t the queen at least take care of the outsiders? Surely the families who live outside the villages don’t stand a chance,“ Dean spoke his thoughts aloud. "I read the news from Taleria every week. There’s no mention of anything like that, son.“ Dean clicked his tongue angrily and pounded his fist on the table.

"Of course, no one writes about it, why should they? After all, those who own the paper are doing just fine.“ Grimly, Dean looked out the window. Their cottage was right on the lake and was one of the most idyllic places Dean knew. The cottage had been in the family for generations, on his father’s side.

"Well, you can join the local council and put the issue on the agenda. Maybe others will agree with you and you can draft a letter.“ His father’s tone sounded doubtful and Dean just laughed mockingly. His father knew as well as he did that any letters or missives were checked at the domestic borders.

"The letter would be burned immediately by one of the soldiers before it even reached the city. You know that, dad, so don’t give me that speech of honor and I dunno what. I don’t need it.“ He would love to know if this discontent was also prevalent in the other peoples‘ villages. He was sure, but had not been in any contact with the other groups until now. It was not until he was officially engaged in gainful employment that this exchange occurred.

"If the condition bothers you so much, you need to do something about it,“ his father concluded. Dean said nothing more on the subject. Of course, the condition in the land of Taleria bothered him. If he knew that other people were suffering, he could not accept it. So many people toiled day after day and in the end kept hardly anything for themselves. But Dean knew that any kind of uprising would hurt him and his whole village more.

Other villages had tried. Immediately soldiers had invaded, robbed and burned everything. It was a familiar song. Fearing such an attack, Dean kept a low profile. Their village was fortunate because Gurgling Steep and the capital were separated by many miles. It was rare for anyone to stray here. While Dean washed the dishes after dinner, he thought about his father’s words. As he did so, Ciwu kept running between his legs and crouching at Dean’s feet.

On the whole, Dean was fairly content with his life. He still had a family, and he loved his brother with all his heart, and together they had been through a lot. His pallusan Ciwu brought him joy every day. When Dean had gotten him, he had been a little puppy. A pallusan was a cross between a hedgehog and a seal. These hybrid creatures had existed longer than water roamers kept records. Therefore, no one could say how the pallusans had eventually evolved. In the meantime, they reproduced only among themselves. Ciwu had grayish-brown fur, spines that were close together, and pointed ears.

Its tail also functioned as a fin, which is why Ciwu, like all pallusans, could live both on land and in the water. They were considered faithful companions of water roamers and could serve them well. Coral toads were also animals that water roamers often kept as pets. But Dean was glad he had a pallusan, finding these animals more fascinating. He was sure that Ciwu would continue to be a great support to him in the future.

Now he had completed his education and had to decide what to do with it. The usual thing was to build his own shell - that’s what the stores of the water roamers were called - and to accept and process orders there. These orders were of different nature. There were letters that had to be answered.

Most importantly, he had to procure ingredients from the lake or sea to sell to customers. Water roamers took care of harvesting the underwater plant riodophis. The stem of the riodophis could be squeezed and yielded a unique juice. The plant was an ingredient in some very valuable potions, including power essences and forgetting potions.

In addition, the water roamer had to chop off corals. A secondary aspect of the diving work was also the further processing of the ingredients into potions. This was the work that his father pursued full-time. Dean was interested in potion brewing, but also enjoyed being in the underwater space. He enjoyed becoming one with the water.  
By no means could he imagine spending all day just in his shell. But that’s what it would come down to, he knew. Sooner or later he would have to train his own apprentices, and he would not have much time for other things.

Dean shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that now. His work life was just beginning. And tonight he was going to have fun at the spring festival. He still had a few hours to go. There was a knock at the door, and a few moments later his father stuck his head through the door. He held a book in his hands.

"I know it’s not easy for you sometimes to keep your drive in check. Your sense of duty and your sense of justice get in the way. Add to that your desire for adventure, and I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.“

Dean frowned because he detected neither rebuke nor praise in his father’s voice. It was simply an observation. "This book belonged to your grandfather. He wrote down his thoughts there for many years. I know you are at a turning point in your life right now. Since you two are a lot alike, I thought it would help you. I can’t read it, but I suspect you have mastered this secret language.“

He handed Dean the book without further words. His father turned and left Dean behind, feeling empty and alone like always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting closer to the first "actual" meeting of Dean and Cas. Their journey will begin very soon. :)


	3. After feasting there comes disclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean goes to the spring festival. When he gets hurt afterwards, the local herb witch Rowena takes care of him. In her hut she gives him new insights and much to think about.

**Dean**

After sunset, Dean met his friends Benny and Garth in front of the forge. He was still thinking about the book and his father, but he shook off those thoughts as soon as he saw his friends. Benny, whose father was the village innkeeper, was carrying three large bottles of the finest black beer in a canvas bag. There the fun could begin.

Various stalls had been set up in the village square where people could buy drinks, food, tools and household appliances. The three friends toasted, and Dean watched the hustle and bustle. Already some inhabitants had gathered on the village square. Most people stood together in small groups, drank and dined, a few brave ones danced.

In the background a music group played well-known folk songs. After a while, a singer was part of the background music. Benny and Garth sat down on a bench, and Dean soon followed them. He told them about his ordeal, and they fell into wild speculation. His friends were both a year younger than him and still had their exams ahead of them.

Dean enjoyed the boisterous mood, listening to the sounds of music. At a folk song that had been passed down long ago, many revelers paused in their activities. It was an upbeat piece that ended on a melancholy note.

The evening progressed, and Dean thought again of his father, who had asked him about the wedding. Suddenly he was in a bad mood. After brooding for a few minutes, he stood up and approached a group of girls. Without many preliminaries, he asked a brunette about his age to dance. She eyed him briefly and then shook her head with a laugh.

"Thanks, I’ll pass, lad.“ Lad. She must have been out of her mind. Dean didn’t let a rejection get him down. Again he approached two girls and this time asked a petite blonde to dance.

She blushed briefly, but then told him she was waiting for her fiancé. The desire for the party had gone out of Dean. If he was actually looking for a wife, then maybe he would radiate something different. A nudge in his side snapped him out of his thoughts. Benny tapped his cap and grinned at him.

"You’re acting really stupidly today,“ he said, laughing out loud. Benny and him were always teasing each other like that, it had become their routine a while back. They constantly looked for ways to make fun of the other. It was their way of enjoying their friendship.  
"Very funny. I don’t see you dancing,“ Dean countered.  
"Garth and I have already found two nice ladies for the evening. Garth is buying them drinks right now,“ his friend exulted.  
"I’m happy for you guys. So are you going to leave me in the lurch for the rest of the evening, or what?“ He asked this in a joking tone, but realized he still sounded sour about it. Originally, he had wanted to celebrate his graduation, and now it looked like he would soon be going home alone.

"Not if you pick on a nice young lady, too, my friend. You shouldn’t always go to the giggling groups. Look over there by that flower bed.“ He pointed to a metal bench where two nicely dressed girls sat. "The older of the two has been looking over at you all along. I guess she found your bumbling attempts amusing, too.“

"Great,“ Dean growled. He ran a hand through his hair. "All right, I’ll try it once more. Then you can all go fuck yourselves.“ That damn wedding arrangement. Love could not be forced. But that was the crucial point. The law was not even remotely about love, only about procreation.

Dean tugged his shirt into place and decided on a different course of action. He picked up some fizzy drink with syrup that women liked to drink and ordered himself another beer. Although he didn’t feel like it at all, he walked confidently to the metal bench behind the flowerbed. Meanwhile, the younger of the two girls was talking to a muscular man who must have been in his mid-20s. The other girl sat unenthusiastically next to the two and played around with a flower.

"Hello, my beautiful lady,“ Dean greeted her formally. He couldn’t have addressed her more stupidly. She didn’t seem to mind his come-on, because she smiled perkily at him.  
"Hello,“ she replied with a wink. "So you made it here after all, huh? I was wondering when I would see your gorgeous green eyes close.“ Her words sounded sassy, but her eyes seemed shy and sweet. Dean felt reminded of a kitten. "Looks like it,“ he continued to reel off his sayings. He complimented her on her eyes and her dress, then handed her the drink.

"This is my favorite drink,“ she said, taking a sip. "I’m Zila, by the way,“ she added, extending her hand to him. Dean kissed the back of her hand briefly, feeling like a womanizer.

"Dean.“ Over drinks, they struck up a conversation and exchanged superficial details about their lives. She was a seamstress, which Dean was not at all familiar with. Although he found it interesting what she told about her work, their conversation was rather sluggish. Without further ado, he asked her to dance after a while.

"But I’ll tell you right now, I’m abysmal,“ he joked, although this statement was quite true. They danced to the tune of the music and just a few songs later they were standing on the dance floor, tightly embraced.

During a slow song, Zila looked at him with her doe eyes and surveyed his mouth. Since he was a bit drunk and needed to turn off his thoughts, he placed his lips on hers. Instantly she returned his kiss, and Dean pulled Zila closer to him.

"Come with me,“ she murmured between a few kisses, and he let himself be pulled along. They walked into the woods until she stopped by a tree. She had an attractive body, and Dean tuned out his doubts. Maybe it really could be that simple.

Gently, he pushed her against the tree and began kissing her neck. Meanwhile, he stroked her body. Zila breathed heavily and guided his hand between her legs. That she wanted to go so far directly surprised Dean, and he paused.

"Don’t you think this is moving a little fast?“ he wanted to know. "Maybe we should get to know each other better first.“ It wasn’t that he preferred that, he was looking for an excuse to interrupt their interlude.  
"There’s no time for that,“ Zila said, kissing him again. "My fiancé will be back tomorrow.“ Dean scrunched his eyebrows together and eased away from her.

"I see. Well, enjoy your hokey life then,“ he said coldly and turned away. Without another word, he walked away, leaving her standing there. Going back to the feast was out of the question for him.

Instead, he walked aimlessly through the woods, soaking up the smell. It was beginning to rain. Dean’s cotton pants were completely soaked after a few minutes. He stood under a large group of trees and waited for the rain to subside. He kept walking and suddenly tripped over something hard. In the distance he heard a neighing horse. He became dizzy and his surroundings blurred before his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, he found that he was lying in a room. "You’re awake. Good,“ he heard a woman’s voice. At first, his vision was still a little blurry. Then he recognized the herb witch who came to the village only sometimes on market days. She had a dubious reputation. It was said that she lured strangers onto her property in order to steal their gold.

"You look like you have encountered a birifa,“ the woman remarked. Dean almost laughed out loud. If she knew he’d recently encountered one. Dean said nothing and straightened up. "I see, sweet boy, you think I’m trying to rob you. Oh no, no, no,“ she whispered, giggling while her long red hair bounced. Why did this strange woman, of all people, have to find him?

"Thank you for helping me,“ he mused politely.  
"You are most welcome, my dear. You got hit hard, yes, indeed. I assume, you don’t get out in the woods much, do you?“ Since his throat was completely dry, he didn’t answer anything at first. "Do you have a drink of water for me, perhaps?“ As long as he didn’t know how bad his head and leg were, he had to rely on this woman.

"But of course, my boy. Sit still.“ Well, yes, where was he supposed to go anyway? His leg hurt so much and as far as he could tell, it was completely swollen. His legs and also his upper body were naked. The herb witch had undressed him. So he had lost his clothes that evening after all. Soon the witch came back into the room and handed him a cup of water. He nodded his thanks and drank greedily.

"I slipped,“ he then tried to explain himself. Dean was often out in the woods when he wasn’t swimming or diving. "Happens, happens,“ the woman said in a chanting voice. "If you want, I can give you some ointment for your leg. Works wonders. You’ll be able to walk again, at least.“ Dean was skeptical, remembering the rumors about the woman. But so far she had been kind enough, yet she would have had every opportunity to harm him.

"Gladly, thank you,“ he said curtly. "Forgive my mistrust. My evening has not been exactly great,“ he explained hesitantly. Briefly, he described the failed dance requests and his encounter with Zila.  
"So you met a little bitch, tsk tsk,“ the herb witch commented, and Dean spat out a sip of water in the face of such candor.

"You could say that,“ he agreed. "You’re not so bad for being a terror in the village.“ He hoped she recognized his joking tone.  
"People hear what they want to hear and gossip. That is the way it was and always will be. It has never bothered me before, my boy.“

She stood up, and only now did Dean notice her striding straight across the room. Apparently she was more sophisticated than he had suspected. She rummaged in a few drawers and then returned to his bed.

While she rubbed ointment on his ankle and then bandaged it, she told him about her work. Actually, she was a lovely, if quirky, woman. She certainly had an aura about her, and her frigging curls were frightening. In the course of the conversation, Dean learned her name was Rowena.

"My, my, you are so handsome.“ She cradled his cheeks and sighed exaggeratedly. Dean rolled his eyes and growled in his throat. He didn’t like it when people only saw his looks and therefore assumed he was stupid.

"You seem like a bright boy, Dean. You’re a water roamer, I take it?“ Had she read his mind? Who knew, she was kind of a witch after all. He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything on that matter. So far, she had been friendly enough, if a bit peculiar.

"A full-fledged one for a few days now,“ he said. "Well, well, and you want to start building the shell soon, huh?“ She seemed well acquainted with the customs of the water roamers. "I hear a lot, even though I might not live in the village. The profession of the mussel keeper remains the one that is most common in this area. Those who are born that way also practice the corresponding work.“

"You’re asking me this like it’s a bad decision,“ Dean noted.  
"Not bad, predictable. But what do I know about it. One does not have much else to do these days.“ She mumbled a few more sentences to herself that Dean couldn’t understand.  
"I’m sure it’s gonna be fun. My dad can explain a lot to me.“ Dean spoke these words without conviction and with a bitter tone.

"Certainly, certainly. But what does work mean today? Exploitation is all it is. I tell you, if I get to see the queen one day, I’ll...“ She paused. "Oh, you shouldn’t say such things in front of anyone, perhaps.“  
"Would you what?“ Dean echoed, who had now taken the bait.  
"Would I wring her neck. It’s as simple as that. If you ask me, she is a malicious person. Very evil. Power and wealth she has enough, after all. And yet she’s greedy, wanting more, always more.“ Rowena looked disgusted and buried her hands in her silken apron. Why did she live here when she was rather wealthy?

"Some people aren’t able to get enough,“ Dean replied after a few moments of silence.  
"I’m sure they do. But there’s more to it than that. Nobody asks me, nobody believes me, but there it is.“ Those words got Dean thinking. The way the country was and the way it was developing, Dean could only shake his head.

Did it have to be like this? But was that all? Was the queen, who was currently invincible, always striving for more power? Or was there more to it than that? Dean had pondered this too many times. But since everyone he approached about it, especially his dad, evaded him, yelled at him, or condemned him to silence, his musings petered out. And so everyone lived their lives, went about their tasks, and more and more created their own world. They received news only from the paper. That was what they relied on, that was all.

"What don’t they believe you?“ Dean inquired tensely.  
"I see the signs, oh my boy. Power is not enough, she wants to see destruction. Just last week, news reached me from a dear friend in Regnirion. Although she lives on the far edge of the area, she told me of outrageous things.“ She slapped her hands over her mouth.

"What exactly?“ Dean probed further. The woman shrugged and then leaned close to him. As she did, her eyes looked in different directions, and she hummed conspiratorially. The fire in the fireplace cast her shadow on the wall behind her.

"Well, my sweet water child, where to begin? Recently the mages have been in their service, hardly imaginable, but true. If that’s not cause for alarm, what is? Oh, but it gets worse. The mages are working on a spell, an unprecedented spell that will make them virtually invincible. But that’s not all, oh how I wish it were.“

Again the herb witch paused, confirming Dean’s suspicion that she was deliberately delaying her remarks, embellishing her words all the more. While he didn’t like the way she seemed to relish her tales, on the other hand, he was too curious to nip her words in the bud.

"Speak your mind, good Rowena. Now I have already become too curious,“ Dean cajoled the headstrong woman.  
"The dragons.“ Her voice sounded solemn and menacing at the same time. "My guess is she’ll want to win over the dragons next.“  
"I thought no one would ever travel this far south?“

"Because of the volcanoes? You’re grossly underestimating the queen’s power network there, laddie. She’ll find ways to send one of her handlers there safely. Then all she needs is enough convincing arguments, and the next thing you know, our villages are being branded by plumes of fire.“

Dean curled his lips irritably in the face of the belittlement. "I didn’t realize their arms reached that far,“ he muttered indecisively.  
"I admit I can’t back up the dragon claim too well, those are my own conclusions. I was there a few years ago, and even then the dragons were prone to violence. Although I could never really explain why.“

"Tell me more. What are the fire creatures like? Do they radiate as much power as the stories tell?“

"They are very much the same and not at all like in the stories,“ Rowena said. While Dean pondered the meaning of her words, she added, "Those who interpret the signs correctly cannot ignore an imminent worsening of conditions. The Pure Noses were once peaceful long ago, now they are murder-driven beasts. You can’t imagine how much anger is in me, my boy. If I were not already so old and frail, I would hunt them myself, the queen. Taleria is no longer the land it once was.“

Her last words spread like an ulcer in the small hut, tightening Dean’s throat. "Anyway, it drives a large part of the population to misery,“ Dean concluded the topic. Rowena nodded several times and then rose again.

"Enough on those terrifying matters for today. Go to sleep now. You can have breakfast with me tomorrow before you go home.“ She left him alone and Dean closed his eyes. But sleep was out of the question at that moment, the woman’s words had stirred him up too much. Dean had grown up in the midst of this monarchy, he knew nothing else.

For many generations, the peoples all lived side by side, wanting to have as little to do with each other as possible. Thus, relationships of convenience developed, such as between Aquanilla and Silvagion. Between other countries, on the other hand, conflicts arose again and again, which all too often degenerated into feuds.

The violence, the fights, the killings - all this had been normality for many inhabitants of Taleria for a long time. Dean did not know it any other way and especially the war-like conditions were more than a good reason for him not to leave Aquanilla. Here there was still peace, unlike in Regnirion or Glaciria, where one had to fear an ambush at every step.

But these regions were far to the north and northeast, while the home of the mages - Artimaga - was much closer. Was the danger spreading faster and over a wider area? Why had the mages given up the independence they had established over centuries? This spell, whose background seemed somewhat speculative to Dean, promised many violent crimes and murders. If he could believe the words of Rowena, Taleria was now no longer safe at all.

Before he left, Rowena gave him a bag of various herbs, which she said he should experiment with. She also gave him a talisman. A bracelet made of leather, into which a protective symbol of the forest god Pendir was sewn.

"Shall the bracelet be a protection to you and remind you of me,“ Rowena said with a grin that revealed her remarkably white teeth.  
"I’ll come visit you when I get a chance,“ Dean promised, feeling sorry for the herb witch. She was helpful and shunned just because she had controversial views and a striking appearance.

The walk home was less painful than Dean had feared. Although treading still hurt, he at least made progress with slow steps. Along the way, a few rabbits and squirrels came out of hiding. Birds flew over his head. Dean could not imagine life without the water and the forest. This was his home, this was where he was born and raised.

The other lands of the kingdom held little appeal for him at the moment. Only by hearsay did he know tales of the forests of Silvagion, the Stardust Mountains, the overgrown Artimaga, and the icy landscape of Glaciria. All Aquai outwardly radiated inner calm, shrewdness, and carefreeness.

Only in large gatherings of the villages were the serious conditions brought up. He had also never seen the capital of Taleria with his own eyes. Dean was content in his familiar surroundings. Who knew what dangers awaited him in the rest of the country. He could do without that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :) 
> 
> Next chapter: Dean and Cas meet (again), and they start their journey. I am so excited for this. :)


	4. The journey begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas set out for their journey.
> 
> Excerpt:
>
>> Dean snorted and ran a hand through his hair. "Whatever. It’s all right, I don’t hold grudges. Just- less smartass, more action while we travel.“  
> "I am certain my fighting techniques excel yours on many levels. I have trained my whole life, fought in many battles.“  
> "Pal, I get it. You’re awesome and majestic and probably also the perfect lover. I live by the mantra that actions speak louder than words, hence I’m gonna make my own judgement of you, all right?“ He furrowed his eyebrows, and harrumphed. "On the fighting stuff, obviously.“
>> 
>> "I-“ Castiel paused, lowering his gaze to the floor. Then he looked up again, his blue eyes now troubled, almost vulnerable, and so profound that Dean had to swallow. Quickly, that expression gave way to an angry glint.
>> 
>> "I don’t see what my qualities in sexual intercourse have to do with our task. In general, it remains a mystery to me how your brain, which is apparently quite trivial after all, makes such connections in the first place. Perhaps you should see a healer before we set out.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go - their first "official" meeting. :)

**Dean**

On the way to Master Gilbat, Dean and Ciwu took some detours because Dean wanted to savor the morning in nature. Even after more than two decades, he was enthralled by the diverse and picturesque landscape of Aquanilla.

The large expanses of water bordered expansive fields and quiet wooded regions. Along with the fresh air, nature cleared his mind completely every time. They started at the Elighn, his home. Since the Elighn was built on large beams, it jutted out just above the surface of the water. Right in the middle of it was a round trapdoor. If one opened this hatch, one could jump directly into the water.

A tunnel several hundred miles long started under the house. One branch led to the fork in the road for traders, the other branch ended at the village square. His grandfather had built these tunnels over many years so that he would not be cut off from trade in wartime situations. At the same time, these passages were also escape tunnels, should his family be in imminent danger near the Elighn.

The tunnel walls were made of transparent hovisiv, a magical raw material that had to be extracted only in the deepest salt water and then processed. The raw material had several helpful properties, but two in particular stood out. Once processed, the normal time and speed structure changed within such a tunnel.

One got to the destination much faster than on foot or even by horse. In addition, the hovisiv reacted to the tongue of a water roamer. If the tongue touched the material, it became permeable for a few seconds. One could enlarge the hole created and swim into the free water space.

The hovisiv tunnels were, of course, the best-kept secret of his family, passed down for generations. They never spoke about its existence to outsiders and there were no records of it. This was an exceptional case because the older water roamers in particular were passionate and dutiful archivists. To make sure that no one revealed the secret, an ancestor had performed a blood spell that bound him and all descendants to the family oath.

If anyone in the family told an outsider about the tunnels, terrible things would happen to them. Exactly what that would look like, no one knew, but Dean was not eager to find out. "Ciwu, boy, come back here,“ Dean called, slowly running out of time.

Frolicking with his pallusan had been a lot of fun, but had made him forget about time again. Perhaps it would be a good resolution to work on his punctuality, but first other things had priority. Tensely, Dean knocked on the door of the shell.

"Come in, Dean,“ Master Gilbat said from inside. Dean entered the workroom and immediately took in the familiar smell of salt, seaweed, riodophis and other plants.

As Dean was about to launch into a formal "Greetings,“ he saw that the master was not alone. A man about his age was sitting on one of the reed chairs by the bookcase. Right next to him was the door that led to the ingredients room. Indecisive, Dean still stood in the doorway. The master studied a sheet of parchment in front of him and pushed his glasses forward a little on the bridge of his nose to read better.

"Sit down already, my boy.“ Master Gilbat sounded more brisk, and Dean hurried to take a seat in the armchair in front of the large wooden table.  
"Thank you for coming.“ The master looked up and nodded at him. "I wanted to ask you to run some errands for me at the wholesale market at the fork. Tomorrow my new apprentice arrives and I still have to finish the weekly schedules.“

Dean was pleased with the master’s request. He had planned to travel to the wholesale market anyway to look for materials for his shell. Since the market was a day’s walk away, he wouldn’t be back until the end of the week.  
"No problem. I’m gonna take care of it,“ Dean replied, but the master interrupted him.  
"All right, thank you. But the shopping will have to wait a few weeks now after all. There are more pressing matters.“ Dean frowned. It was not like Master Gilbat to give him an order one moment and then put it on the back burner the next.

"Dean, I’d like you to meet Castiel.“ Dean turned around in his chair and saw that a young man had gotten up from his chair. This guy Castiel, who had about the most shitty name he’d heard in a long time, had a charisma that spilled over to the whole room. He was intriguing, seemed so different, almost as if he didn’t belong in their world.

Goosebumps spread all over his body, and Dean didn’t know what was going on all of a sudden.

Dean couldn’t look away, had to know who he was dealing with. He clicked his tongue, annoyed at his unpleasant thoughts. Dean stood up, walked forward as if in a trance, and shook the mysterious stranger’s hand. His counterpart returned the handshake firmly, holding his hand a little longer than usual.

Furthermore, they didn’t exactly keep the usual personal space, in fact, this Castiel stood so close to him he felt his body warmth, could hear his breath. So far, Dean had deliberately looked away because his former reaction had put him into a turmoil. But he was so curious, and Castiel just didn’t move away from him. This gave Dean the opportunity to take a closer look at the visitor.

His cloak was made of a material Dean did not know. Under his hood Dean noticed the ebony hair, standing off, and Dean was sure there were ladies who loved to tousle through it. His light-colored pants were made of cotton, and his top was made of a light brown leather. On his hip Castiel wore a large belt, to which were attached leather pouches and a large dagger sheath. Some kind of hunter, probably.

But most of all, this guy had the most incredible and beautiful eyes Dean had ever seen in his entire life. They were steel blue, and radiated an intensity that made him swallow involuntarily.

As soon as Dean caught his gaze, he was unable to look away, wanted to dive in deeper, forget about the outside world. Castiel felt so familiar as if he knew him somehow. This thought and longing fucking scared him, but he couldn’t put it away. What was it with this guy? He cleared his throat and backed away from the visitor.

"Castiel is from the Phiconian people and has a request that cannot be delayed. But it is best that he tell you himself what it is about.“

The Phiconians were the hunters and smiths from the west of the land. They lived in the forests of Silvagion and were considered harsh and devoted to their faith. But at the same time, Dean had read in stories how brave and battle-hardened they were.

Castiel began to speak, staring blankly at Dean. His eyes were almost glued to his, as if they wanted to fathom his innermost - and that was something Dean definitely didn’t wish on anyone. Because what was there was too much, too dark and too broken.

"Our village is infected by a plague. Many inhabitants have already died, others are wasting away. We have good healers, but their powers are limited to healing flesh wounds and normal diseases. The leader of the hunters is in close contact with Master Gilbat. From him he knows that you know how to make healing potions like no other people except the elves. We need your help.“

A few years ago, Dean had read about another plague, the giraxa plague. Especially the Phiconians and the dragon breeders from the southernmost part of the empire had been affected by it. Since the telegram had not reported anything about the plague a few months later, he had assumed that the problem had gone away.

Silently, Dean fell back into the chair, not taking his eyes off Castiel, who pulled his reed chair next to him.  
"I thought all the plagues had been eradicated,“ Dean spoke his thoughts out loud.  
"Messengers from the queen assured us that we had nothing further to fear. That was obviously a fallacy, because this time the royal troops themselves are the cause of the epidemic. The drinking water was poisoned. We have been able to retrieve clean water by now, but the sick people remain.“

"Castiel already showed up at my place last night and wanted to leave right away. But I thought you could use a day’s rest after your last journey,“ the master said in a conciliatory voice, folding the parchment again.  
"You are to accompany Castiel. His mission was to get from me the recipe and ingredients for the potion. But of course I cannot simply pass on our secrets.“

Master Gilbat shook his head and leaned forward a bit. "Besides, no one should travel alone in these times. Castiel’s companion was unfortunately caught by a band of bandits.“ Dean threw a glance sidewards, observing Castiel. At these words, Castiel narrowed his eyes to slits. Had the companion deliberately allowed himself to be kidnapped in order to save Castiel? Or had Castiel left him behind? "So you see, Dean, we have no choice.“

Dean touched his chin contemplatively, again watching Castiel. "What about the steam devices from back then? Couldn’t they smoke everything out?“ Castiel blinked briefly, again in such a peculiar way, and clasped his hands.

"If you didn’t just rely on what’s in the news from Taleria, you might know that the fumigation ended badly back then. The soldiers the queen sent all died in the endeavor. None of our messengers get to her, and even if she knew, she wouldn’t send another soldier.“ He hissed the last words contemptuously. Dean huffed. What had he expected? Of course, the oh-so-great queen needed her puppets for other purposes.

"Capiche. No need to get personal.“ He gave Castiel a quick wink, whereupon the guy merely cocked his head to the side and eyed, no examined him. He was apparently not in the mood for jokes. Dean could understand him somehow, yet he knew from himself that he often tended to gallows humor in dangerous situations. Lost in thought, he stroked the scar that stretched across his entire forearm. "I don’t understand what you are talking about, Dean. I was merely pointing out a mistake to you. You seemed lost with your ignorance.“

Dean snorted and ran a hand through his hair. "Whatever. It’s all right, I don’t hold grudges. Just- less smartass, more action while we travel.“  
"I am certain my fighting techniques excel yours on many levels. I have trained my whole life, fought in many battles.“  
"Pal, I get it. You’re awesome and majestic and probably also the perfect lover. I live by the mantra that actions speak louder than words, hence I’m gonna make my own judgement of you, all right?“ He furrowed his eyebrows, and harrumphed. "On the fighting stuff, obviously.“

"I-“ Castiel paused, lowering his gaze to the floor. Then he looked up again, his blue eyes now troubled, almost vulnerable, and so profound that Dean had to swallow. Quickly, that expression gave way to an angry glint.

"I don’t see what my qualities in sexual intercourse have to do with our task. In general, it remains a mystery to me how your brain, which is apparently quite trivial after all, makes such connections in the first place. Perhaps you should see a healer before we set out.“

Dean let out a frustrated groan and threw his arms in the air. This guy had gone off his nut after all. No normal person acted this stiff and oblivious. And Dean was going to go insane in his presence as well, that much was clear. "Master Gilbat, are you sure this youth is the right one for the job?“ Castiel asked skeptically, continuing to eye Dean suspiciously. Dean growled and looked back and forth between the master and the black-haired man.

"Are you serious?“ he asked Castiel, half incensed, half amused. "I’m twenty-five years old. You’re hardly older than me.“ Master Gilbat, who had not spoken at all in the past few minutes and had only listened to the conversation, cleared his throat.  
"I see you’re getting friendly already.“ They were doing fucking what? What conversation had the old man been listening to? He’d never been further from forming a bond with anyone, let alone a profound one.

"To answer your question, Castiel, I can only trust Dean with this assignment. He is a smart and very capable water roamer. I would go myself, but my injury makes long distance travel nearly impossible.“ He pointed to his legs. "The other masters cannot neglect their work for so long. The levies are hardly manageable at this rate anyway.“

Of course, Dean knew about the critical condition of their village. Nevertheless, he was not euphoric about having to embark on the two-week journey with this cold, fascinating guy. Dean rolled his eyes at himself. What was most fascinating was that he allowed himself to be so distracted, especially since this guy probably had a screw loose.

"I’ll be accompanying Castiel,“ he pointed with a quick wave of his hand. "Sure, I am. When do we set off?“  
"If it’s up to me, right away. We have a long journey ahead of us. Besides, the sea air doesn’t agree with me.“ Castiel wrinkled his nose, but then obviously remembered who he was talking to.  
"Would the princess rather go back to swinging through trees and burying her face in moss and soil, yes?“ Dean asked wryly.  
"I’m not a princess. And besides...“  
"It was just a figure of speech.“ Great, a companion who didn’t (want to) understand irony, this was going to be a long trip.

Dean got up from his chair, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I’ll pack my things. I’ll meet you in the village square at sunset. You know where that is?“ He raised his eyebrows and waited for Castiel’s answer.

Again Castiel tilted his head and eyed him in that way no one had ever looked at him before. Dean growled inwardly, but at the same time couldn’t take his eyes off those gorgeous blue eyes.

"I’ve passed that stone area you use for festivities, yes.“ Again, Dean rolled his eyes. Talking to this Castiel for more than a few sentences was going to be exhausting. "Well, see you later.“ He whistled and Ciwu stood up from the blanket he was curled up on. "Master Gibat,“ Dean said, nodding, and turned to go. To save time, he wanted to at least make his way back to the Elighn through the tunnel.

Arriving at his home, he immediately ran to his room, cursing. As he frantically packed clothes and other paraphernalia into his backpack, there was a knock on his door.  
"I have to hurry,“ Dean called out and sighed. The door opened. "Can you tell me why you’re running around this house like a maniac? You left the trap door open, too.“  
"I have a job to do for Master Gilbat, and I must leave as early as tonight.“ In brief words, he described what he intended to do with Castiel.  
"I see. A real adventure, then. Your mother would be proud of you.“ Briefly, Dean paused. His father hadn’t spoken of her in years. An oppressive feeling spread through his chest. His breathing quickened and he had to compulsively remember what year it was.

"Thanks, dad. I hope she’s watching me.“  
"Of course she does, son. Believe me, she’d rather watch you on a trip like this than in self-destructive fits like you had five years ago.“ Dust swirled in the corner of his room where he kept his boots. Near the lake and the sea he usually walked around in cork sandals, even in winter, but in the woods he loved wearing his boots. Dean coughed and nodded dutifully.

"I know. I learned from it.“ That settled the issue for him. He quickly finished packing and had trouble keeping his eyes open. The tunnel had cost him energy again after all. He had to regain his strength by the time he left.

Not even an hour later, he and Ciwu were on their way again. Ciwu wagged his tail and set a brisk pace. Once again, Dean stopped at the master’s house, where he packed various ingredients and vials into a bag. When he arrived at the village square, Castiel was already waiting for him.

"You’re late,“ he said, swinging himself onto his legs. The way he moved was incredibly graceful, at the same time he radiated so much power. Next to him was a white pony loaded with several bags.  
"I’m right on time, buddy,“ Dean protested, pointing at the pony. "Don’t you have a real horse?“

"I arrived on foot and I wasn’t exactly in good shape. I was lucky to get here in the first place,“ Castiel said, his lips pressed together at Dean’s familiar speech. Now that was something he’d have to get used to, Dean certainly wasn’t going to curb his mouth for this damn annoying, if kind of interesting guy. "As for the pony, we’ll leave it at the fork by the wholesale market. There are many dangers along the way, we can’t risk that. We can keep better concealed on foot.“

Castiel looked at him for a long time, and once again Dean noticed how captivating the blue of his eyes was. Furthermore, he now smelled him as well. Forest and honey. Damn lulling scent.

All the while Castiel was remarkably silent, sometimes Dean thought he was walking completely alone. He couldn’t gauge Castiel. He seemed concerned about his people. Yet he was so businesslike and cold, which didn’t stop him from flying off the handle.

By now the sun had almost set, a few last rays of sunlight illuminating the path. Otherwise, Dean could guess where he was going. He still knew this part of the mantle forest well, but the very next day they would enter areas he had rarely or never set foot in. The call of an eagle owl rang out. It was already late evening when Dean could no longer stand the silence.

"What did you have in mind? Are we setting up camp here somewhere?“ Castiel looked to the side and seemed honestly confused.  
"We haven’t been on the road long, have we? We can walk through the night without a problem, Dean.“ The way he stressed his name shouldn’t pierce marrow and bone every time, it was fucking wrong and also inappropriate. After all, he was mad at the guy.

"You can barely see your hand in front of your face, and a torch attracts too much attention after a while.“  
"You should be out at night more often. I still have excellent eyesight.“ With those words, Castiel turned away from him and kept walking.  
"Hey, now wait a minute!“ shouted Dean, upset. He ran after Castiel and held him back by the shoulder. Snarling, Castiel turned to face him.

"Don’t ever do that again! Or I’ll spear you with an arrow and throw you to the wild creatures. Understood?“ Castiel hissed angrily at him. Dean took a step closer and raised his arms in the air placatingly.

"No need to snap at me like that, ice princess. I don’t feel like walking silently behind you all the time, with no goal or plan.“

"Oh, I very much have a plan. In the early hours of the morning we will reach the wholesale market. And after that, we’ll go through the Zester Thicket past the Lyra Bridge.“

"Through the Zester Thicket? Have the gods forsaken you? That’s way too dangerous.“ Dean shook his head in disbelief. The Zester Thicket stretched near the Mantle Forest and was known for its dense trees, sharp thorny plants, and most importantly, its deadly inhabitants. Castiel was obviously nuts!

"I know what I am doing. I won’t accept another death struggle like the one on the way there. There are bandits in the immediate vicinity of the Lyra Bridge. They come out of their hiding places unnoticed and attack from ambush. Two of us don’t stand a chance.“

His voice had become quieter, and Dean didn’t know what to say back. This man was a mystery to him. He radiated coldness and distance, and yet he believed that the loss of his companions had taken him.

"Unless you want to provide yourself as bait,“ Castiel added, keeping his expression blank. This was going to be fun. Dean decided he would have to give in. Otherwise they’d still be standing here in a few weeks, and they didn’t have that much time.

"Agreed. We’ll keep walking.“ Castiel scrunched his eyebrows together briefly, but then put his stone face back on, as Dean secretly called it. Silently they walked on and Dean missed his brother and his Ciwu. Normally they were inseparable, but he was too small and would attract too much attention.

Since Castiel and he talked so little, unpleasant thoughts kept creeping into his head. They spoiled his mood, reminded him of his fears, made him question everything and especially himself. He hated it. At some point, Dean could no longer stand the silence.

"So your weapon is the bow?“ he tried to start a conversation.  
"For as long as I can remember,“ Castiel said. "When I roam the forests of Silvagion, I feel like no one can touch me. I toiled for three summers to be able to afford the bow.“

"I thought Phiconians forged their own weapons?“ Dean had enjoyed a good school education and knew all the clans at least in the most important features. At least, that’s what he believed. The last rays of the sun shone through the treetops and for a brief moment their path was brightly lit.

Castiel sighed and pulled his cloak tighter around him. With feather-light steps he walked on and let himself fall back a little. Finally they walked side by side - for the first time - and Dean gave Castiel a quick sideways glance. He couldn’t help but admire his black hair and his prominent facial bones one more time.

"You have a point. Depending on the training path, we make our own weapons, yes. We are even known throughout the country for that. I, however, belong to the group of hunters.“

"I see, I always thought you guys specialized in all those areas.“ Suddenly he felt foolish and ignorant which didn’t happen often. Normally, he would keep the upper hand in conversations, was always prepared, always brighter, but Castiel was also quick at searching his mind for answers. Now, Dean reflected further on Castiel’s answer. To master even one skill field like this required years of training. If not one’s whole life was spent on it.

Castiel stopped and looked him firmly in the eye. "You really are wet behind the ears, Dean.“ He said that without mockery, just noting it.

Dean clenched his teeth and kicked a few pebbles out of the way. "I have considerable doubt that you know everything about us Aquai.“

With that, the old familiar silence reigned again. Dean was annoyed by this. Usually he was good at getting to know other people, having conversations with them. But there was too much inside him that resisted putting aside his stubbornness towards Castiel. Otherwise, they could have learned more about each other and tightened the bonds of their people.

So they walked on and on over the forest ground, which was partly stony and partly springy due to moss and mulch. They only took short breathers to give their pony some rest.

Although they wanted to get moving soon, his curiosity was piqued. He wanted to have a quick glance at the diary. His grandfather’s book was made of leather and had a fine wax cover. What things would he learn? Would he gain knowledge for his own life?

He opened the book and quickly discovered that it was indeed written in the secret language his grandfather had taught him as a boy. This could not be a coincidence. The first entry was from more than 50 years ago, even dated to the bygone era. Dean began to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know what you think! :)


	5. Diaries and nicknames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean learns new information about his grandfather's past from the diary. Then, Dean and Cas continue their way to the wholesale market while getting to know each other better.
> 
> Excerpt:
>
>> "You might as well have said something. I really don’t need rumors like that.“ Dean was upset, though strictly speaking it wasn't Castiel's fault. "Getting married is low on my list of priorities,“ Castiel said, lost in thought, and Dean had to know what was causing that look on his face.
>> 
>> "Wanna elaborate?“ he asked, immediately regretting asking.  
> "No, I don’t want to elaborate further on that topic.“
>> 
>> The next moment Castiel was standing right in front of him, again not paying attention to their personal space, although he was the one who didn’t want to be touched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 5. :) We'll have: Revelations from the past, more bickering, Dean accidentally spilling some innermost thoughts, intense staring and new nicknames. Enjoy! :)

**Dean**

_"Year 673 of the Golden (V.) Age, Day 43._

_I never thought that I would be one of those who would preserve their experiences for future generations. Why should my life interest anyone? But over the last few weeks events have condensed. In the meantime, I’m afraid of losing track of things, perhaps I need to make sure I haven’t dreamed it all. A few weeks ago I traveled to Glaciria. The negotiations with the dwarves were long, and sometimes I thought they would throw me into a cell. But nothing of the sort happened, no, rather their harsh behavior was a test. They wanted to see if I was worthy. In the end, I celebrated with them as friends._

_I made a deal with the leader that will make our country more famous. This is only the first step. Soon we will be known for our goods, I am sure of it. I want to return to Glaciria as soon as possible. It is pristine and enchanting, and it holds many secrets just waiting to be unlocked by me. But that will have to wait for a while, because another journey is coming up. Where to? To Regnirion. My hand trembles with excitement as I write these words._

_The king is getting 40 years old and organizes a big party in the capital. Representatives of all nations are invited, and somehow I made it onto the invitation list. I cannot express my joy in words. The capital exudes so much cheerfulness. But most of all, I am looking forward to seeing the king, the man who is doing so much for our country. Peace has never reigned for such a long period of time._

_After the bloody wars that brought the long reign of the elves to a tragic end, our land is shining. And I will meet the man who made it possible for us. This has to be the happiest day of my life. Obe has specially tailored me a new robe of silk._  
_The whole village chipped in just so I wouldn’t look like the simple man I am at the feast. Their support warms my heart. The cohesiveness of our village is unlike anything I have experienced in my travels. I’m sure our peaceful togetherness pleases the forest spirits and the sea goddess, so we’ll be spared any mischief.“_

At these words, Dean paused for a moment and swallowed hard. His grandfather had been so optimistic, had placed so much hope in the country. From his perspective, it was hard to imagine Taleria as a prosperous and peaceful country where the people loved to live. Who revered their king. How much had changed in half a century. This idea made him tremble, made him sick. He collected himself and skimmed the next entries, which mostly reported on his daily life in the shell. Then came an entry that must have been made after the king’s birthday. Dean collected himself and began to read.

_"Year 673 of the Golden (V.) Age, Day 92._

_The feast was wonderful. Delicious food, captivating music, dances and interesting meetings. I made promising contacts and had stirring conversations. However, there was something that trumped everything. A woman of incomparable beauty. When she danced, her black hair flew around. Her laughter could light up an entire room and stole into my heart after just a few seconds. I don’t know why she noticed me at all._

_Her dress alone was worth more than I will ever own. And yet she suddenly dropped onto a chair next to me. Before we had spoken a word, she took my hand and pulled me up. Her wildness overwhelmed me. We danced most of the evening, sometimes close, sometimes sweeping the entire dance floor, but always looking at me with her amber eyes as if I were the only man in the room. It was exciting. That night she seduced me. Since then, not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about her. When I didn’t imagine tasting her lips again. I must see her again."_

Dean grinned. It was a strange feeling to read about one of his grandfather’s conquests, and yet he felt that those very events had shaped him. Had made him the great man who in later years had gained notoriety across the country. He wanted to learn more, wanted to better understand his role model, to fathom his story. At the same time, he didn’t want to devour the entries, wanted to read each one at his leisure. One more entry he would read, then he would let the book rest for a while. After all, he had tasks of his own ahead of him.

_"Year 673 of the Golden (V.) Age, Day 150._

_I have seen her again. My whole existence is her. When she revealed her identity to me, I was shocked for a few moments. She is the sister of the king! Never would I have expected that she had royal blood in her. And yet her charisma should have told me. All this changes nothing. She assured me that she did not want to have anything to do with her brother’s business, that she disdained political entanglements. She fills me with happiness, shows me what it is like to be alive.“_

Dean sank to the ground. This could not be. His grandfather had had a love affair with the king’s sister, had developed feelings for her. He felt sick when he realized the implications of this. For the king’s sister was none other than their current monarch. No, that was impossible. The woman his grandfather was so fond of here sounded cheerful and adventurous, seemed to have nothing cruel about her.

The king must have had another sister, a woman who kept to the shadows, preferring a more liberated life. Doubts gnawed at Dean. But what if queen Divinae was meant? That would mean that in his younger years his grandfather had loved the woman who now spread misery and terror? If he turned the page, he would learn the truth. He would perhaps learn a secret that almost no one knew.

Dean shook his head and closed the book. It was getting late. For sure, the entries didn’t have the weight his subconscious would attach to them right now. Apart from that, he should not sink into the past, when his future was waiting for him. A hearty yawn escaped him. After hiding the book in his backpack, he stood up and went to Castiel.

Castiel looked at him with an almost curious look, but remained silent. Dean packed up his things, and stowed the things he couldn’t possibly carry on his back in the pony’s saddlebags. Not for the first time, Dean thought to himself that perhaps the pony held the most pleasant part of their companionship.

It had a clear job to do, no one was beating or judging it, and eventually, it would simply move on to the next task. Unlike him, it didn’t have to remain polite, trying in vain to make conversation, and still keeping its own thoughts and doubts in check in the process. Dean could almost feel envious.

"What have you been reading about?“ asked Castiel behind him, and this time Dean detected no edge or bite in his words.

With a quick movement, he turned and winced briefly when he realized how close Castiel had come to him. Only inches separated them, and Dean swallowed hard. He wasn’t used to giving up personal space just like that, and especially not with strangers he’d known for such a short time.

Although he was troubled inside, he didn’t want to be embarrassed to reveal his feelings in front of Castiel. Instead, he held Castiel’s gaze, ignoring the flutter in his stomach as the blue eyes instantly pierced him, and pressed his lips together. He had probably just been trying to be polite; he couldn’t possibly know what his relationship with his father was like. He grinned wryly at Castiel, old habit, and nodded at him.

"A book my dad gave me shortly before I left,“ he said as nonchalantly as he could manage. Castiel continued to look at him as if he were listening to the most interesting conversation far and wide. He was really interested in his answer? Dean chuckled. "One of my grandfather’s diaries,“ Dean added quietly.

"That is a thoughtful gesture.“  
"Yeah. It would be if my dad actually cared about such things, ya know. I figured he found the diary somewhere, found no use in it and didn’t want to throw it away either. It’s like him, I mean, it’s the way he behaves with us, ya know. Not caring enough anymore to actually look out for his kids and take responsibility. Not enough guts to give up, hence his children would finally be able to move on. So he gave it to me, like he always hands me his stuff and forces his thoughts onto me.“

Crap, no, dammit. His abandonment issues were certainly not something he wanted to talk about with Castiel. Not at all, not at all. What had gotten into him? This was not good, this was disastrous. He had embarked on this journey at the behest of his mentor, he was supposed to be helping another village. If Castiel spread the word that the water roamer from Gurgling Steep was actually a doubt-ridden fellow who had been given too many burdens at a young age, he would become a laughing stock.

"I see.“ Castiel mused, looking at him differently now. There was no mockery in his eyes, no annoyance, none of the expressions he had learned from him so far.

"Exploring one’s own past, learning things about one’s ancestors, it certainly sounds intriguing. I would know nothing about it,“ Castiel said. What had he meant by that? He had a family, hadn’t he? Castiel hadn’t spoken much about his life in the village, but he had mentioned his father once or twice, about the hunts they always went on together.

While Dean stroked the pony’s fur, he thought about Castiel’s words. "You don’t miss your father then.“  
"Nah, not exactly. I mean, yeah, I mean he’s family, but he’s also kinda an ass. I know I sound cold-hearted now, but my dad and me have a- complicated relationship. My little brother though? I love him so much.“

"I see,“ Castiel said again, and Dean didn’t know if he was doing it to annoy him or if it was just his way of taking in and processing new information.

This guy was going to drive him crazy. This was all so damn wrong, so messed up. He shouldn’t say things like this out loud, it would make them real, and everything around him was too real anyway, too overwhelming. He didn’t need any more of it. Dean snorted and shook his head. Dean leaned carefully against the pony, who neighed. "You’re a bright spark. I’m impressed. After my monologue just now, I think it should be clear that I don’t have a very good connection with my father anymore.“

"I wonder what that’s about,“ Castiel said, apparently actually considering those words. "Maybe something happened that made him lose his faith in everything, and more importantly, in you. Something that convinced him it was better to let you become independent.“

Dean clicked his tongue and reared back in front of Castiel. He gritted his teeth and now pierced him with his eyes. "Shut up. You don’t know anything about me or my life.“  
"That is correct,“ Castiel said in a calm voice, and Dean screamed so loudly it echoed in the trees. Dean had to get out of here.

"Leave me the fuck alone,“ he ruled Castiel, watching him gain distance. Of course. Everyone always assumed he must have done something wrong. That just because he’d made mistakes a few years ago, he was a lost guy, a rebel, rebelling against his father. That was so damn unfair, and he hated it. He hadn’t done anything wrong. It had been his father’s job to catch him, to keep him from making mistakes, not to force responsibility on him.

He rubbed his nose, pinched his arm, didn’t know if he even wanted or should go any further. Panting, he sank to the ground, pressing his head into the dirt, breathing in the smell of the forest floor, as if that scent could ground him again. His head was buzzing, he felt sick, dizzy, and his throat was tight.

What difference would it make? He should run away, he should leave all this behind, finally start over. No, he reminded himself, he couldn’t. Sammy, he had to take Sammy with him, take care of him. He was still too little, and Dean couldn’t let their father raise him like that too, force his views on him, leave him alone. So far, Dean had always been able to squeeze in as much as possible; once he was gone, he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it.

As the sun slowly rose, they stood at the fork. They hadn’t talked about Dean’s outburst anymore, but somehow it was okay. In a way, Dean was glad he had yelled his thoughts out loud. He had felt good because he wouldn’t see Castiel again in the foreseeable future. Maybe he would tell someone about his talk, but now that he had calmed down, he doubted it. Castiel might be mysterious and frustrating, but he didn’t have a manipulative part, or at least, that’s what Dean figured. Castiel acted like nothing happened, talked even less than before, still, right now, it was exactly what Dean needed.

At the market they bought more food and water. Dean isolated himself from Castiel for some time to talk to the merchants. Some of them he had known for a long time from his visits to the market with Master Gilbat.

Among them was Old Helin, who had the largest selection of building materials far and wide. It was with him that Dean stopped. "Young Dean. It’s good to see you again. Where did you leave your master?“ The old man’s voice was a light singsong and had a calming effect on Dean. "I have finished my training,“ he explained without mincing words and with a touch of pride in his voice.

"Congratulations, my boy. Then you’re here for your shell?“ Helin immediately began to search through his boxes and shelves. As he did so, he hummed inaudibly to himself. "Not today,“ Dean said quickly, before the old man had already assembled a pile of materials for him. "Maybe on the way back, I have something to do first. A little trip, as it were.“

"A trip, how exciting. But not alone?“ Helin sounded startled.  
"There are two of us.“ Dean ran a hand through his hair and looked around. Where was Castiel, anyway? Had Dean lost him? Suddenly he smelled forest and honey. "Here you are. Enough dawdling, we need to get moving.“ Old Helin looked back and forth between them in amusement.

"Dean, you finally found a partner. How wonderful! I look forward to your marriage.“ He clapped his hands together and made a move to throw his arms around Castiel’s neck when Dean remembered how Castiel had reacted to his touch earlier. "No, no, no, that’s not my fiancé. This is the companion I mentioned.“

Disappointment spread across Helin’s face, and as with Master Gilbat, Dean wondered how people could seriously think he would somehow get along with Castiel, let alone have a bond.

"What is not, may yet become. Be well. Have a safe trip.“ Dean spared the retort that getting married would be the last thing he and Castiel would do. He thanked him and hurried after Castiel.

"You might as well have said something. I really don’t need rumors like that.“ Dean was upset, though strictly speaking it wasn't Castiel's fault. "Getting married is low on my list of priorities,“ Castiel said, lost in thought, and Dean had to know what was causing that look on his face.

"Wanna elaborate?“ he asked, immediately regretting asking.  
"No, I don’t want to elaborate further on that topic.“

The next moment Castiel was standing right in front of him, again not paying attention to their personal space, although he was the one who didn’t want to be touched.

Dean’s breathing was frantic, and for a moment he forgot that they couldn’t stand each other. On the contrary, he felt a certain excitement rising inside him as Castiel continued to just look at him. He swallowed hard and drew in a sharp breath.

Damn it, what was this guy doing to him to upset him so much? He was no longer a boy to be rattled by impressive personalities. He was usually only this flustered when he took a fancy to someone - sexually speaking - but since that clearly wasn’t the case with Castiel, he didn’t know what it was. Maybe the strangeness, his peculiar charisma and way of talking, of moving. That had to be it.

Dean raised his eyebrows, grinning wryly. "Still there, Cas?“ He didn’t know what suddenly made him give Castiel a nickname, but he certainly wouldn’t address him in such a stilted manner for days.

"How did you just call me?“ Castiel - Cas - approached him even closer, which Dean noticed because he suddenly felt the guy’s thigh against his. Cas‘ hand then touched his right upper arm, and the light touch was driving Dean insane. His whole body tingled, everything in him churned and yearned and screamed.

What had Cas said earlier – no touching? Well, it seemed he was allowed to touch Dean, but not the other way around. This didn’t seem fair to him.

"Cas. I thought it was a fitting nickname.“  
"Fitting for what if I may ask?“

"Your weirdly adorable behavior?“ Dean asked, cursing under his breath. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

"I see,“ Cas finally replied, tilting his head again. He bored his ridiculously blue eyes into his, and damn, did he always stare at people this way? It was so unusual and extremely thrilling.

With that, Cas broke away from Dean again, which was kind of a shame because the body heat had been helping with the cold.

Castiel – Cas – growled deep in his throat before shaking his head in disbelief. "You’re a peculiar man, Dean.“

"Well, I think you were looking for the word awesome, but never mind, it was a long day.“

Cas turned around, giving him a nondescript look. Then he shook his head and kept walking. It was really going to be a long trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, against his better judgement Dean is a bit intrigued by Cas, huh? :D He clearly wants to know more about him, why he confuses him so much. I'm sorry (totally not sorry *coughs*) I couldn't resist the slight (if unintended) flirting on Dean's side. 
> 
> I hope you liked the chapter, please, let me know what you think. :) 
> 
> Next chapter: We'll get to know Crowley, the antagonist. I had so much fun writing him in this fic, so I'm very excited for his first appearance.


	6. In the dragon's nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley fights and tames a dragon. He visits a political wedding for strengthening alliances and gaining information. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and Happy New Year! :) This is the first chapter from Crowley's POV. Please keep in mind: He is the antagonist in this fic, yes, but not the enemy. He has his own agenda, and we'll get to know his motives and him as person better over the course of this story.

**Crowley**

"Hold still already, otherwise your wings will make acquaintance with my blade from now on.“ Crowley swung the shimmering blue rope like a whip and struck the scaly legs several times. The dragon hissed. Its claws dug into the ground, digging more holes in the firm sand with each movement. They had been playing this game for more than an hour - Crowley was getting tired of it.

Under normal circumstances Crowley would have been inferior to the creature, but he had prepared for this attack for a long time. He had pored over many books until he found the spell that gave him an advantage. A spell that prevented the dragon from breathing fire. Against its physical power Crowley insisted, for day by day he felt more of his old magic within him. 

The dragon struggled incessantly, unwilling to accept defeat. It stood up on its hind legs, reared to its full height. Its huge black wings stretched out whereby the red dots appeared even bigger. The mouth opened, showing its enormous teeth. He heard a sound, barely audible, but signaling the dragon’s will to fly away. 

Anticipating such an escape attempt, Crowley leapt into the air at the same moment. Only his intensive training allowed him to land directly on the dragon’s back. He grinned. At least he was still in shape. To prevent the dragon from defending itself, Crowley immediately put the magic shackle on it and slid back to the ground. 

The ancient shackle did not miss its effect. A few seconds later, the dragon changed back to its human form and gasped for air. The silver band cut into his neck and now automatically tied itself around his hands and feet. The dragon spat on the ground and looked at him with hatred. 

"You are vile,“ he shouted, so that his echo reverberated off the walls of the cave. Unimpressed, Crowley raised his eyebrows. "Tell me something new, spittie,“ he replied, summoning forth a box. At last. The dragon was in his power. 

After securing the box, he allowed himself a short break to regain his strength. He needed to be in his right mind for the rest of the trip. That Crowley would one day kidnap a dragon would have impressed his younger self. 

Even then, the ancient creatures had fascinated him. They had even helped to make him dream of more, even if his imagination as a young man had been immature and limited. So predictable. 

When he had lived in Glaciria, all regions in the south had seemed exotic to him. The foreign languages and cultures, the animals living in the forests and volcanic regions, about which he had only been able to read in his parents‘ almost infinite library, people who led a simple life and believed in the most diverse gods - all this had symbolized adventure for him. Today, as he sat on a rock in the middle of a desert that offered not a drop of water for miles, these longings seemed void to him. 

Regardless of this, his current life no longer allowed him such an outrage. Although visually he appeared to be in his early 30s, in reality he counted significantly more years of life. A fact that most people either forgot or simply did not know. Other Talerians, the older races such as the elves or even the Nuvolin, who usually lived to be several hundred years old, sometimes a millennium, were more aware of his identity. For them, he was called Kioldán the Tempest, his old, real name. 

For a while, he had liked this name because it reminded him of his glorious achievements. Not everyone could claim to have led a battle to victory. "The Battle of the Crevasse,“ as it was called, had claimed many victims, but had also helped Glaciria to new power. The House of Zuderic had enjoyed more prestige than ever, people of all ages had paid a visit to the magnificent castle. What had survived from that time? 

His parents were only bones in the family crypt, the castle he had inherited was run by a dwarf, and he himself eked out an existence that was always about the next cog in the wheel. Towards the south, he recognized the volcanoes, which rarely erupted, but were known to sink whole areas in lava during active phases. Therefore, only a few houses stood there and generally travelers experienced a hardly pronounced civilization. 

Crowley took his medallion out of his pocket and realized that he had neglected his duties enough. In a magically sealed box he held the dragon, which he would transport to Aquanilla the next morning. Before that, he would attend a wedding. He truly could not put off the appointment any longer. 

He jumped down from the rock with verve and directly enjoyed the strong wind, which felt pleasantly fresh on his skin in the fall and made his cloak flutter. For a moment, his mind cleared of worries, the many things he had to take care of on a daily basis. Crowley landed softly as the boots cushioned his feet perfectly. First he had to check that the box was intact. 

Tied to the lonely palm tree, he found the sand stallion as he had left it. Fortunately, the animals were characterized not only by their heat resistance, but especially by their speed. He untied the horse, mounted it and stroked its reddish mane twice. As soon as he heard the familiar whinny, he rode off. 

In the oasis town of Sichek, he saddled up. He handed the reins to a stable boy and slipped him two silver coins. He would have loved to do without the exuberant handshake afterwards, but Crowley always acted according to the motto that in the end it was the simple people who sometimes deserved recognition. For suppression alone secured the obedience of the citizens, but did not prevent the masses from rising up. 

This was an aspect on which his opinion and the queen’s views differed greatly. That she had remained in power for so long was like a miracle. A miracle that was located in the southernmost part of the castle. He did not deny that the queen had made the land more fertile again and had brought order to the partly fragmented regions. 

Nevertheless, he still remembered exactly the day of her seizure of power. Since then, she had allowed herself more than almost all human rulers before her. Even the elves, who were first-rate and passionate fighters, had run the country peacefully thanks to purposeful alliances and a council. 

However, Crowley had to keep up the facade here. He could not show the nobles and influential people that he intended to bring down the queen. One way or another. 

How he hated such events. Decorations and background music differed from time to time, but Crowley had no sense for that anyway, so he almost ignored such things most of the time. Only out of the corner of his eye did he notice that no expense or effort had been spared for the foyer. 

On each side of the corridor were three broad marble columns with elaborate paintings in the central area. From the ceiling hung chandeliers and tasteless banderoles, presumably chosen by the bride. Too many frills that covered too little substance. 

Everywhere servants scurried around, carrying trays with pots, jugs and bowls or large amphorae. Others mounted silk curtains at all the passages. Nobody noticed that the colors were not coordinated at all. 

The local prince Qundix strutted up to him and euphorically called his name, so Crowley suspected that he wanted to impress any witnesses to their meeting. After all, his handshake was firm. "Lord of Zuderic, it is my pleasure.“ 

Crowley’s jaw ground at this salutation. "Please, my lord, you know that the title of lord only matters on paper now.“ He waved it off and managed a smile. With that, he pleased his host, making Crowley secretly wonder if leaders possessed other pleasures than such inanities. 

In any case, he received such attention only because, as the queen’s right-hand man, he was her direct deputy. After they had mastered the usual greeting phrases, Crowley sought out his room. In dusty clothes and with crusted blood on his back and legs, Crowley had better not present himself. 

Due to the manageable size of the castle complex, Crowley at least didn’t get lost and quickly found himself in his room. Tiny it was not, yet the room would have fit about 10 times in his usual chambers. Crowley washed himself thoroughly to remove dust and grains of sand, and hissed as the water got into his wounds. 

He had suffered scratches and cuts too many times in the past few months, and he had to be careful that his weakened body did not limit his magic. The equipment was simple but functional, reminding him that the dragons were not a wealthy people. Although treasures of unimagined size were still stored deep in the caves, no one knew their destination anymore. 

The last existing maps had been well hidden by their owners, so well that Crowley had not heard about them for decades. Therefore, the dragons secured their relative independence primarily through relationships. Moreover, some of them boasted so much strength once they assumed their dragon form that they were feared in the land for it. 

The myth of the deadly, fire-breathing dragons carried so much weight among the populace for a reason. Few knew that it took a lot of energy for the dragons to transform, so much so that only the strongest went about their daily lives in both forms. Meanwhile, the others preferred their human form and saved their energy for dangerous times. It was precisely this weakness that the queen now wanted to exploit for herself. 

If the dragons possessed the means to maintain or replenish their energy - for example, by means of appropriate chains - this would result in an undreamt-of force. But until then, alliances had to be made. 

The prince was allowed to call himself such, but he had no rights of nobility. He ruled over his - admittedly huge - principality, and a considerable number of dragons obeyed his orders. Since prince Qundix enjoyed much influence among the dragons, and they listened to his word, it was also logical from his perspective to intermarry profitably. 

For everyone else, the occasion provided a repeat opportunity to tell everyone about their grandiose lives who wasn’t quick enough to take a richly laden plate. Nowhere did the country’s elite succeed so well in disguising true intentions, kissing each other’s behinds and basically laughing at every utterance. No one really enjoyed themselves at such parties. 

Crowley had to summon all his willpower each time not to inadvertently show or say to the face of certain interlocutors what he thought of them. He opened his bag, which had already been taken to his room. Briskly, he threw on his ceremonial robes and inwardly condemned the day he had made his commitment. He was not here voluntarily, but he could not miss the wedding of prince Qundix and princess Camila. 

Then he remembered why the evening would demand more of him. Meira, a noblewoman he had met at a ball in Venachin, now lived in an estate not far from here. Politically, she had become an important figure over the years, which is why Crowley always maintained regular correspondence with her. 

It did not behoove him to appear unaccompanied, and so Crowley had contacted Meira early on. He’d rather go to the wedding with an old acquaintance than show up with a complete stranger, plus he might pick up a piece of information or two that way. For Meira had her ears everywhere. She looked passable, but did not captivate with her acumen. He met her in the garden, from where they would go to the wedding. 

"Crowley!“ she squealed as soon as she caught sight of him. Before he could greet her, she examined him extensively, openly displaying her desire. Not for the first time, she undressed him with her eyes, making no secret of her interest. "You are an absolute treat,“ she continued there. 

Crowley raised his eyebrows skeptically, which she apparently interpreted as flirting. "Where do you hide all year?“ She didn’t wait for his answer at all and kissed his cheeks without being asked. For a woman of her standing, she acted very directly, he had almost forgotten. 

He put up with her for one evening, but it would not come to a deeper connection on his part. Nevertheless, there was nothing to stop him from responding to her advances and flirting with her a little. In her last letter she had hinted at something that had only strengthened his intention to invite her. She had mentioned a hitherto undiscovered elven ruin that was probably located below the castle. 

As etiquette required, he kissed her hand and curtsied. He put on his brightest smile. "Meira, my dearest, as always you stand out among all the ladies. You look enchanting.“ Once again he kissed her hand and pulled her a little closer to him, whereupon she licked her lips sensually. 

Perhaps he could still manage to ensnare a woman as he had in the past. Everyone present was so practiced in their roles that it only made sense to behave that way, too. Although he was reluctant to act this way, he almost always achieved what he wanted with well-chosen charm. He leaned down a bit, making sure his lips briefly grazed the shell of her ear. 

"I wonder if I’ll even be able to concentrate on the actual celebration?“ he asked, velvety soft. She purred, and Crowley couldn’t believe how strongly she responded. She enjoyed the reputation of changing her men frequently - perhaps he was still missing from her list. He took a deep breath and continued to pay her a few well-dosed compliments. 

The wedding itself was unspectacular and proceeded in the same way as all politically motivated weddings he had attended. The prince and princess took their seats at the table after the traditional dance, thus opening the actual festivities. To do justice to his role, he engaged the nobles in short conversations one after the other. Meira only left his side when she went to get new drinks. 

Normally Crowley would have stayed sober, but on this evening he had to adapt to Meira’s behavior. He had to show her that he desired her, but first there was politics to be played. Although it was a tiresome task, the wedding provided a good opportunity. In advance, he had thoroughly informed himself about the developments of the individual principalities, so that he could now apply his knowledge in a targeted manner. 

The more conversation he had, the tighter Meira wrapped herself around his body. Aside from her curves, which felt good, her advances left him relatively cold. Still, he focused on the physical contact, on her fingers as they traveled further and further down his back. If he was going to choose such means, he should at least get the minimum pleasure out of it. 

As willingly as she nestled against him, he felt no remorse at using sex to get information. She knew what she was getting into with him, knew he didn’t want a woman at his side. Unobtrusively, he now stroked her back as well. Her dress was cut so that her skin was almost entirely uncovered. Since he had turned down several months of sexual adventures, his excitement grew with every minute. Meanwhile, he continued his conversation. 

The prince of Venachin talked without ceasing, gratefully taking Crowley’s questions as an opportunity to wax lyrical about conditions. Crowley sprinkled comments in the right places and made affected noises where necessary. Of course, he had to take that time. As right-hand man, these things were as much a part of his job as keeping track of finances and making strategic decisions. 

Those who really deserved his ear and, above all, his help, did not get a word in edgewise. In the meantime, he was reluctant to bend in such a way, but at the moment he had no other choice. He had worked too hard to get to this position in the first place. 

With half an ear, he continued to listen to his counterpart complain about the rebels. He listened to the rant about the battles that cost the prince more men and finances than expected until he became alert. And that was the moment the prince asked him a direct question. "It is said that you are the last mage to master the old magic. Couldn’t you easily subjugate all adversaries or finish them off directly?“ 

For a moment, Meira stopped her intense stroking. Crowley gave her a sidelong glance and motioned for her to continue listening to the conversation in silence. Crowley massaged his temples and briefly considered how best to respond. He decided on a direct, if polite, option. "In theory, that would be the easiest course of action, yes. Of course, the queen appreciates my special skills.“ 

He twisted his mouth into a grimace. "And it’s true, I’m far more powerful than ordinary mages, which is why our enemies are deterred by it in most cases.“ He didn’t bother to explain to him the differences in these forms of magic, which were glaring. "You are, however, subject to a misconception. Magic is subject to limits; I cannot access it indefinitely. With spells of such magnitude, I would inevitably die.“ He let his words sink in. 

"Nevertheless, I am of course capable of keeping the rebels at bay should they dare to make a serious assault on the castle. Long enough to give our troops an advantage.“ He did not mention that his magic had not yet returned to its former strength. Unnecessarily raising doubts would be an unwise action. 

"I see.“ The prince nodded, looking at him with a mixture of admiration and fear. "You are an asset to the country, my lord. The soldiers follow your orders, trust your judgment.“ 

The words sounded sincere, showing Crowley that the reputation he enjoyed in Regnirion had spread to the other regions. Being trusted by the people and the army always paid off in difficult situations. Interesting was that the people here made quite an effort to hide their own history with magic, one of the most powerful ones in existence. 

After all, the dragons, being the oldest creatures of Taleria, were the ones who had paired themselves with mages so often they had created one of the most powerful species he’d ever encountered. By chance it had recreated the oldest magic, light magic, only known from the legends. Blessed and cursed with the glimmer, a force of nature which bared destruction. Nobody was able to explain it, but the glimmer was an unmistakable sign. Some said the goddess had showed herself, wanted it to happen. Crowley didn’t know what to make of it, but was a power the kingdom could not endure, too dangerous and uncontrollable. Wrong. 

Many, many decades they had been called Sinalae, which roughly translated to miraculous shiners, but now were known as the Flawed. Ostracized and strictly forbidden. He was the one who had taken care of this threat in the past often enough. With a nod, Crowley bid farewell to the prince and intertwined his fingers with Meiras. She whooped. 

He could not put up with this fuss any longer. His nerves were still tense anyway, possibly his body thirsted for rest - or some other kind of physical activity. One more time he lowered his head to bring his lips as close as possible to Meira’s auricle and murmured, "I, for one, have talked enough for now.“ 

He felt a shiver go through her body. Women like Meira primarily desired his charisma and appearance, even if it was incomprehensible to him how they could find the scars that covered his body attractive. If they then heard about his political influence or even his talent for magic, they were usually smitten. 

What he was like, what his views were, all that was irrelevant. It was the same at this moment. Meira ran her hand over his buttocks and kissed his neck. "You speak my thoughts,“ she breathed back. 

Whether the hints in his letters had now further incited her desire or whether she wanted to seduce him anyway, he was not able to judge. How did he tease the exact position of the elf ruins out of her? He would think about it later. 

Crowley stroked along her neck, letting his hand travel to her breasts. Meira was putty under his hands and pulled his head toward her. Without hesitation, she engaged him in a stormy kiss. 

Not letting go of each other, they stumbled into her room. Immediately he pushed her against a wall and licked along any exposed skin. She stripped him of his robes and carelessly dropped her own dress to the floor. Her body was really nothing to sneeze at. He pulled her to him and seduced her by every trick in the book. 

Although he was reluctant, he pulled her onto his chest after sex. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head, which made her purr. He had sworn off such caresses, but he enjoyed feeling the closeness of a woman again. He closed his eyes and involuntarily saw another woman’s face before him. Rosy cheeks, brown eyes, that dear smile. Why did she creep into his thoughts? 

Probably because she was the woman he associated with tenderness. Seeing her every day didn’t help him stay steadfast. Crowley pushed aside the unwelcome hints of warmth. 

"Oh, Crowley, you have even exceeded my expectations.“ He laughed softly. What could he say that would equal her utterance? Why was he having such a hard time finding the right words? "And you have a perseverance that is second to none. Not to mention your passion.“ 

He rolled on top of her and kissed every part of her body. Again he elicited a purr from her. "Your breasts are all too tempting. I think they deserve special treatment.“ She clawed at his hair, a little too tightly for his taste, but he settled into the moment and indulged her breasts. 

"I’d be up for a second round,“ he said muffled, to which she moaned in agreement and cupped his hips with her legs. Now was the opportunity. "I’m in the mood for an adventure. What do you think?“ His tongue made its way down her body. 

"I have an idea,“ she murmured then as she continued to writhe beneath him. She whispered something to him that sounded very much like ruins, and as a sign of his approval, he engaged her in another kiss. They quickly threw on light robes. Meira led him to the ruins, and they continued where they had left off. 

It was warmer than Crowley had expected, and he memorized the outline carefully. The act of love satisfied him more than he had expected. After he escorted her back to her room, they lay intertwined in bed. He slept fitfully because he was not used to sleeping next to a woman. 

The next morning he said goodbye to her and whispered a few more naughty words to her, which she noticeably liked. 

He quickly found his way around the ruins. The buildings from the past could barely be guessed at. What he had feared now became reality. There was nothing here, absolutely nothing, that would be of any use to him. All objects of value had either been stolen or lost forever. 

Nothing pointed to the people of the elves. They were stones that no one had bothered to remove. The underground shafts were truly a sad sight. Crowley knew the magnificent buildings of the elves, but here someone had gone to great lengths to destroy everything completely. 

Although he already knew that no artifacts worth mentioning had ever been found here, he searched every corner of the rooms. Still nothing. Magic had never existed here, of that he was convinced. Another search he could have saved himself. 

This was only a small temple, he could guess the remains of the altar. More he had not to expect here. Shelves of a once huge library represented the only remnants of a glorious era. Nothing more had survived. Most of the books were rotten or contained irrelevant information. 

No, he did not find what he was looking for here. He walked past a large statue. A famous elven warrior whose name Crowley could not remember. Another symbol of the fading origins of the elves. There were skulls on the ground. 

Crowley shook himself. How many elven ruins and sites would he have to travel to? He had to change his strategy, otherwise he was running out of time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :)
> 
> Excerpt from the next chapter:
>
>> "Stay awake and hold still,“ Castiel ordered, and again Dean felt his fingers on his skin. Involuntarily, his heartbeat accelerated, and he momentarily forgot the danger of their situation. How could it be that a simple, normal touch stirred him up in such a way? He was too young to die. Should the last thing Dean remembered actually be Cas‘ voice, of all things? Castiel hissed, and Dean heard frustration loud and clear. Cautiously, he opened one eye and peered at Castiel.
>> 
>> "How bad is it, Cas? C'mon, I'm a big guy!“ Cas said nothing, biting his lips, sighing over and over. Only now did Dean see the deep, damn deep cuts in his skin.  
> "You’re gonna die, boy. You’re poisoned,“ the man near them said.
>> 
>> "He IS NOT. And now shut up,“ Cas yelled, and Dean winced at the sudden increase in volume.  
> "All right, do your thing,“ the stranger shouted, and remained indeed silent.
>> 
>> Dean gave Cas a long look and swallowed. "Wow, Cas, you’re so worried. I’m kinda touched. You might have a heart after all,“ Dean joked and laughed softly. At the same time, his whole upper body hurt so much that bile rose in his throat.


	7. The healing incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas are attacked by Harpies, and fight alongside a stranger. After the fight, Cas tends to Dean's wounds. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's have some action! :) Also, this chapter is a bit more angsty due to Dean's wounds and suffering. But all ends well, and Dean gets some (a lot) Cas-care. :)

**Dean**

In the same rut they walked on. The trees grew taller and lined up in front of them like an army. Bristly bushes and thorny shrubs blocked their way. It was as if they had crossed an invisible border. Cursing, Dean moved forward. His shirt was holey by now, only his leather jerkin still withstood the obstacles. "Whose glorious idea was it again to go through this damn forest?“ he ranted.

"Don’t make such a fuss. I thought you were out in the woods so much. I guess you shouldn’t let a few sharp branches get you down.“ Castiel’s voice remained perfectly calm, with trained glances he intently scanned his surroundings.  
"A few branches, my ass,“ Dean replied, resigned.

"You really are squeamish. If we didn’t need your help so badly, I’d recommend you just turn back.“ Ouch, that had hit home. That was as far as he got in showing weakness in front of this icicle. He was just about to reply when Castiel covered his mouth. Immediately his lips tingled. "Stay still,“ Castiel whispered. A moment later, he heard it, too.

A screech approached and grew shriller by the second. What was that horrible sound? He wanted to run away. No, he wanted to approach the source of the screech immediately. Actually a melodious sound. Closer, closer, he could not be far away. With steady steps he went where his ears led him.

"Dean!“ He could still hear his companion calling darkly in the background. What was his name? Chanter? It didn’t matter anymore, either. A shout and then her voice ebbed more and more. "Dean! Dean! Dean!“ This time it was a different voice. A louder one. Suddenly a man landed in front of him, blowing his long shaggy hair in his face.

"You’re a defying idjit,“ he growled, immediately unsheathing a large longsword. "Stand behind me and cover your ears in Pendir’s name.“ Dean was confused, he would much rather approach the voice after all. "Boy, do as I tell you. Or I’ll leave you here to die.“ He did as he was told after all. He felt dazed, as if he had been awakened from a long hibernation. Then he saw it. A Harpy.

Dean had always believed the magical creatures lived deeper in the Zester Thicket. If he had only seen her from behind, he would have thought she was a normal woman. She had long black hair, but her face was riddled with deep furrows. Her deep red eyeballs spilled out. Everything in them screamed out the thirst for blood, the unbridled hunger. Her pointed mouth was wide open, and Dean knew she was making that horrible screech.

He was in a state of shock, feeling paralyzed. What was he supposed to do? No narrative and none of his training sessions had prepared him for an encounter with a Harpy. The dark-haired man took a swing and missed. Again he lashed out, and again, and again. In a flash, the Harpy’s body darted from one spot to another.

If she could keep up this pace, they would never escape her. Desperately, Dean thought about how he could protect his ears, so he could grab his weapon. He had no choice. He ran a little to the rear, so that he could at least build up a small distance to the Harpy. As he did so, he hummed the melody of a song his mother had always sung to him before bed.

Then Dean took a deep breath and removed his hands from his ears. Immediately he pulled out his knife and cut off his sleeves completely. Scantily and as tightly as he could, he tied the scrap of cloth around his ears. Once again he took a deep breath.

The man had also dodged the Harpy and was now standing only a few feet away from him. With knife and dagger in one hand each, Dean crept up to the Harpy. Suddenly he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. Fortunately, Castiel was back.

But he had rejoiced too soon. A second Harpy, somewhat younger but certainly also deadly, had been attracted. Now they had almost no chance. Meanwhile, the stranger tried to corner the obvious leader of the two. She dodged him and reared up to her full height.

Without fear, the man pushed her even further into the forest, sword pointed directly at her. She leapt upward, landing 10 feet away in one of the trees. Then she swung farther and farther, so far that Dean could barely see her. The man ran after her, hell-bent on not letting her escape.

In a desperate move, Dean threw his dagger straight at the younger Harpy. A hit. The forest spirits had to be favorably disposed toward him. He had wounded one of her wings. The Harpy opened her mouth wide and looked even uglier than before in her suffering screams. Dean threw his knife in her direction as well, but this time the Harpy was prepared. She was now in fighting position and jumped directly in his direction. Only at the last second did Dean throw himself flat on the ground.

The Harpy was now right next to him, one of her foot claws cutting into his upper arm. He felt the blood seep onto the ground. Damn.

With difficulty, he reached beside his torso, groping searchingly for a rock. It irritated him not to be able to hear anything. It made him feel helpless and more vulnerable. No stone far and wide. Then he noticed a tugging at his back. A few moments later, Dean felt a slight breeze on his skin. This was not good.

She had torn away his leather doublet. Now his last pitiful protection was gone. He felt a twinge, she was biting his flesh hard. Soon it would end. With one of her claws, she simultaneously pulled at his makeshift ear covering.

Immediately he was completely at the mercy of her peculiar screech again. That was it.

He kicked, but got no grip. He mustered all his strength to reach up into the air. Briefly he heard an irritated screech, then the Harpy devoted herself to his flesh again. Dean knew she would first drink his blood, then consume his flesh. He did not have much time left.

In the distance, he heard battle cries from his unwilling companion. The fight was obviously evenly matched. Then a hiss followed, and an arrow landed right next to him. Another hiss coupled with a foreign-sounding call rang out. He knew that voice. More and more arrows hailed until finally the screech of the Harpy fell silent. The monster’s heavy body fell directly on him. Castiel groaned, obviously wanting to push the Harpy away.

"The other one,“ was all Dean could manage. Apparently the leader and the fighter had already moved quite a distance away from them. "I can’t do anything, I really can’t.“ He had never seen Castiel so unrestrained. Finally, the weight disappeared from his back.

"You’re severely hurt,“ Castiel murmured, touching his skin. A shiver ran over his entire body. Castiel's fingers felt so soft. Although he hadn’t reached directly into any of Dean's wounds, his back ached unbearably. "Wait,“ Dean groaned, propping himself up on his side. Castiel was sweaty and out of breath. "Thanks,“ Dean said, then frowned. "What happened to you?“

Castiel avoided his gaze and looked toward the treetops.

"A whole cluster of fire lilies. I was too careless.“ He shook his head, and again Dean was confused at seeing him so out of control - so full of emotion. "My left leg is completely numb, I could barely move. I was just crawling half the distance and then had to pull myself up a tree. The fact that I was able to shoot the arrows at all was nothing short of miraculous.“

"The poison could have paralyzed your entire body for hours, not to mention the Harpy would have shredded you to pieces in a matter of seconds.“ "I’m fine, Dean,“ Castiel objected.

Dean was speechless. "Thank you,“ he added. Castiel’s eyes were a whirlwind of emotion and his features seemed so fragile. For a moment, Dean thought he had never been so intrigued by another person. Why did he feel so bewildered in Castiel's presence? Exasperated, Dean gasped.

"We need you,“ Castiel repeated his words from before. Of course. He, or rather the formula, was just the means to an end. "Do you hear that?“ he then asked Castiel. In pain, he straightened up further and sat down, panting. "What?“  
"Exactly. You can’t hear anything anymore. The other Harpy must be dead, too. Or the man.“

"The former.“ The man emerged from the thicket. "Nothing like a duel with a Harpy to get one's rusty limbs going.“ He pulled his scuffed coat carelessly off his shoulders. As he looked back and forth between them dismissively, the scar that ran diagonally from his right eye to his upper lip enlarged. Each of his steps shook the ground like an earthquake.

"You idjits are still pretty damn young to be going on a suicide mission like that,“ he commented without mincing words as he chewed on a few leaves of mint. "Around here, harpies are truly not uncommon. Must have killed two dozen of these beasts in the last 10 years. Can quickly become a real nuisance.“

At these words he wrinkled his nose in disgust and spat out the leaves in a wide arc. He dropped to the ground. Then he closed his eyes and a few blinks he was already asleep. What an unusual man.

"Dean, I need to look at your wounds,“ Castiel muttered then, rummaging in his pockets.

"Knock yourself out,“ Dean said, emphatically relaxed, even though his body ached like he had never experienced before. He couldn’t move, still feeling himself losing blood. He was dizzy, and he felt like he was going to throw up.

Breathing heavily, he closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing under control. As he did so, his limbs trembled, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep, just sleep. Subliminally, he perceived Castiel tending to his wounds, apparently cleaning and bandaging them to stop the bleeding for now.

"You’ve lost a lot of blood and the poison is spreading fast. That’s not good,“ Castiel commented, with Dean hearing him very indistinctly, as if under a veil. Castiel really had an insane talent for giving someone courage, Dean thought.

Although he was not making a single murmur, he was afraid. He didn’t want to slowly waste away, he wanted to move on.

"Stay awake and hold still,“ Castiel ordered, and again Dean felt his fingers on his skin. Involuntarily, his heartbeat accelerated, and he momentarily forgot the danger of their situation. How could it be that a simple, normal touch stirred him up in such a way? He was too young to die. Should the last thing Dean remembered actually be Cas‘ voice, of all things? Castiel hissed, and Dean heard frustration loud and clear. Cautiously, he opened one eye and peered at Castiel.

"How bad is it, Cas? C'mon, I'm a big guy!“ Cas said nothing, biting his lips, sighing over and over. Only now did Dean see the deep, damn deep cuts in his skin.  
"You’re gonna die, boy. You’re poisoned,“ the man near them said.

"He IS NOT. And now shut up,“ Cas yelled, and Dean winced at the sudden increase in volume.  
"All right, do your thing,“ the stranger shouted, and remained indeed silent.

Dean gave Cas a long look and swallowed. "Wow, Cas, you’re so worried. I’m kinda touched. You might have a heart after all,“ Dean joked and laughed softly. At the same time, his whole upper body hurt so much that bile rose in his throat.

"Wait,“ he said, before turning his head to the side and throwing up.

"It’s okay, the pain causes a contraction,“ Cas said, looking like he was out of his mind, or rather not really here anymore.  
"Cas, talk to me,“ Dean said quietly, hating himself for how whiny and shaky his voice came out. "I know you can’t stand me, but please be honest with me here.“

"I don’t know. I simply don’t know. I thought I could simply take care of your wounds, but this not normal. It’s- Maybe you should drink a healing potion.“  
"Will just dull the pain, can’t cure magically inflicted wounds.“  
"Still, it’s better than nothing,“ Cas contradicted him, and Dean briefly explained where he could find the potion.

A short time later Cas was back with him, kneeling right next to him so that he was touching his legs, and holding the vial to his lips. "Drink.“ Dean swallowed the potion, repeatedly gasping because his throat was burning so badly. In fact, the potion helped a little, though he still noticed how the wound on his arm in particular was looking worse and worse. It had turned grayish, his veins stood out unusually clearly.

"I’m really gonna die, ain’t I?“ Dean asked and groaned.  
"No, not under my watch,“ Cas hissed. "I have to- Why isn’t this working?“

"What are you doing anyway? I thought you weren’t specialized in healing?“  
"I’m not, I have no idea what I am doing actually. However, I am-“  
"Oh, wow, that’s so reassuring,“ Dean interrupted him.

"Dean, spare me with your sarcasm right now, I can’t concentrate.“  
"So you do get sarcasm from time to time? That’s- good to know, I guess,“ Dean mumbled.

"I do, yes, but I still don’t understand you. You frustrate me, and you are a mystery.“

"It’s a good thing, ya know. Who doesn’t want to solve some riddles, discover all the awesomeness that is Dean Winchester?“ The truth was that no one could want that. As soon as anyone even remotely realized how much self-doubt Dean possessed, how fragile he actually was, they would run away screaming.

"Is this an honest question?“ Cas asked with way too much sincerity.  
Dean moaned. "Just- do what you’re about to do then.“

"What I meant to say was that I have indeed no idea what I am doing here. But somehow, something tells me what I have to do. I have to touch you. I don’t understand it, but so far, it has been working, I hope.“

"Okay,“ Dean said, not knowing what to do with this information. The fact that Cas had any intuitions only made him weirder. After a while, Cas cleared his throat but said nothing.

Instead, Dean realized Cas was raising his arm and running his hand over his right shoulder again. No, he wasn’t running it, he was caressing it. Shit, he was virtually caressing it with his fingertips, his fingers, the heel of his hand. This wasn’t normal, was it?

Dean’s body prickled the same time his stomach still turned with nausea. All outlines blurred before his eyes. The next time he opened them, he saw a strange glow. Colors that were so mesmerizing, so familiar. A shimmer. He felt warmth, so much warmth, and another emotion that he couldn’t place, that was new and known simultaneously.

Suddenly, he thought about his early childhood, some of his dearest memories, and right now, he felt even better than after his first roam through the wide sea back then. The colors were still there, so consuming, and the shimmer, always the shimmer. "Beautif-“, he mumbled, then the nausea took over. Again, he almost collapsed and had to close his eyes.

"Dean? Dean, can you hear me?“ Dean coughed hard a few times before carefully sitting up. Immediately, he saw Cas looking at him. Worriedly? No, Dean had to be imagining it.

Dean swallowed and squinted his eyes. "What happened?“  
"You blacked out for a few minutes. But your wounds look better now. The poison seems to be gone. I don’t know how, but see for yourself.“ Dean looked at his shoulder and sure enough - he could see how bad the wounds were. He still felt the pain, too, but otherwise he felt dozens of times better.

He caught Castiel’s gaze, and nodded at him. "I’ve no idea what you did and how you managed to do that, but thank you, man,“ he said. Castiel didn’t reply at all, just moved away from him quickly, as if he couldn’t wait to break body contact fast. Dean felt a twinge in his gut he couldn’t explain.

After Cas had briefly rubbed Dean’s wounds again with herbs to protect them from infection, they walked on in silence. Fortunately, they did not have to search too long until they found a safe hiding place. They did not lose many words, they were all exhausted from the fight.

The strange man proceeded routinely and after a short search brought back a whole bag full of edible berries, mushrooms and even a squirrel. These they were able to eat with the supplies they had brought. Having suffered only minor injuries, the man soon set about building a shelter out of branches, ropes and a large linen cloth. Meanwhile, he talked and talked and talked, and seemed to pass the time.

"You are a strange duo. Since when do Phiconians and Aquai form a community?“ he wanted to know at some point. If Dean hadn’t been so grateful to the man for his help, he would have covered his ears long ago. How could he talk so much without interruption now? Direct he was, anyway.

"We’re not a community. We’re just doing a task together,“ Cas drove into the man, who was talking about an encounter with a Phiconian in the Stardust Mountains.

And again, Dean felt a twinge that he couldn’t quite explain. Why did it bother him so much when Cas talked like that about their relationship, which wasn’t one? He didn’t even like Cas - no, that wasn’t true. You couldn’t throw deepest secrets at another person, and survive a mortal danger at that, without developing some respect, at least.

"Dean, lie down on your stomach. I must rub your wounds again with herbs and bind them with a cloth.“  
"You should rest in that condition, my young friends. You will not get far and will only be weaker afterwards.“  
"I don’t know what you’re imagining-“ Cas paused, not even knowing the name of their unwilling companion.

"Bobby,“ the person addressed replied, a slight grin appearing on his face. "It does not matter,“ Cas ruled him. "We don’t have time to waste. We’ll get some sleep, and in a few hours we’ll be on our way. Just move on without us if you don’t like it.“

"Cas, gimme a break.“ Dean held his hand in front of his chest because he was still having trouble breathing. He largely ignored the burning on his back and shoulder. What were deep cuts and bite marks when he could witness such heartfelt conversation? "If it weren’t for him, I’d probably be dead - if not both of us.“ He turned to the side and murmured a thank you to Bobby.

"May I remind you that I saved you, too. You would be dead otherwise. Quite literally. I’ll get some water.“ Castiel’s voice seemed disinterested, but his eyes sparkled. He bit his lower lip and then limped off.

"How could I ever forget?“ Dean roared after him. By the end of their venture, he’d probably be reminding Dean of it every hour. Or even more frequently. After all, their conversation volume would immediately increase many times over.

"Quite snappy, your fuzz. One can really feel sorry for his village. Nobody can stand him for more than a few hours.“ Dean answered nothing. Actually, Bobby was right, he was and remained annoying. Still, Cas had saved him and risked his life in the process.

Unlike Bobby, he had no experience in killing harpies, which was why the danger had been as great for Cas as it was for Dean, despite his combat experience. More importantly, Castiel had tended to him and taken care of his wounds.

No, at that moment it was wrong to judge Castiel. He was different from he had first thought. He surveyed Bobby out of the corner of his eye.

The way he sat there, resting in himself, made Dean a bit puzzled. Was he not afraid at all? Was one really so hardened after so many years? He could not suppress his curiosity. "And what brings you here?“

"Nothing.“ Bobby leaned against a tree and stretched his legs away from him. Randomly, he grabbed a wide branch and began carving small patterns into the wood. "Now don’t look like I threw a rock at your head. I’m doing what I feel like doing. Roam the woods, travel the regions of the realm, take commissions now and then.“

Aha, a mercenary. He had already thought so. Whereas Bobby was the first mercenary who didn’t look like he’d had a wooden plate nailed to his back. "I see.“ Dean let the words sink in. "And where are you from originally? I mean, you must have grown up somewhere.“

For a few moments Bobby didn’t say anything, and Dean only heard individual wood chips trickle onto the floor. "I’m from Glacirica.“ That was interesting indeed. Never had Dean heard of anyone who had met a Glacien, let alone once encountered one himself.

"I’m afraid I can’t serve you with any exciting anecdotes about the abduction. That was after my time. I left home when I was 16. With a thug for a father and a mother who had permanent love affairs, you can hardly blame me.“ He shook his head and drank from his leather pouch. "You want another sip? Helps with the pain.“

Dean shrugged his shoulders. Numbing the pain was better than enduring it permanently. Many a person would have disagreed with him at that moment, but he cared little for that. Bobby’s bad family background weighed on him, reminding him once again that every family had its secrets and legacies.

"One thing I do know. The queen is never, ever just out for power. You can count on that.“

Bobby drank a few more sips and shook himself. "Bitter. I guess that’s true for booze and life.“ They lapsed into silence. The longer they talked, the more Dean was convinced Bobby was consumed with cynicism. There was always a loose line on the tip of his tongue, but basically he was just struggling to survive. Without greater sense.

But didn’t they all feel that way? Didn’t they all eke out a living but shy away from the bigger tasks? For fear of the consequences. Unbelievable. A few sips of high-proof alcohol and Dean philosophized about existential questions of the existence. He was beyond help. Instead, he might as well count all the leaves on the trees near them. That would help him just as much at the moment. He grumbled and his head buzzed.

He saw everything blurred, pain and exhaustion did the rest. Then he laughed. "What’s so funny?“ Bobby turned to him with a puzzled expression and put on his tight-lipped grin. "I dunno. I just think it’s all so absurd. Still, I haven’t felt this alive in a long time.“

"So, you’re a risk taker after all. That’s what I thought.“ They fell into renewed laughter and Dean got into a chatty mood. He told of his own adventures in the Mantle Forest, of his home, and of his family.

Bobby was very interested and asked just the right questions. Quite unlike Cas, with whom he could only ever exchange a few words until their conversations degenerated into discussions or arguments. And yet it was Cas who set his whole body, his head and maybe even his heart in turmoil and drove him round the bend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)
> 
> Next chapter will be from Castiel's POV. :)


	8. Different shades of green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While hunting in the forest, Castiel muses about his current state, and encounters two creatures. Then, he has a more personal conversation with Dean in which he opens up. 
> 
> Short excerpt:
>
>> Staying short-spoken was better, Castiel decided. They shouldn’t bother with long chats. From behind, he pushed Dean down onto the floor with one hand.  
> "Are you this rough with your lovers, too?“ Dean’s mouth was faster than his brain again, and Castiel had to suppress a laugh. 
>> 
>> "No, I like to let them hang upside down from the trees,“ Castiel returned dryly. A snort escaped Dean, and Castiel furrowed his forehead. Had he been joking? He never made jokes. Probably Castiel was still in shock himself and his brain was playing tricks on him. 
>> 
>> "Well, I’d love to witness that sometime.“ Dean’s teasing tone delighted Castiel, at the same time he despised himself for taking pleasure in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think, this chapter is the longest so far, but I wanted to introduce Castiel’s perspective properly. For me it was necessary to a) show some of Castiel’s views etc. and b) also have a longer scene with Dean to show how he feels in his presence. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the first Cas chapter. I hope you’re up for some pining and tension. :)

**Castiel**

Satisfied, Castiel looked at the tree climbers he had killed - the small rodents would make a good meal. To escape Dean a little longer, he decided to preserve the food right there. Using his knife, he gutted the animals so that only the edible meat remained. Castiel shouldered his bow, ran swiftly toward the riverside. Slowly, the tension fell away from him, but his thoughts still pounded wildly. 

The battle with the Harpies had shown him one thing: How quickly a life could be extinguished. Although his training had taught him to take an indifferent attitude toward killing, the aftermath of the attack did not leave him cold. 

For a moment he had considered fleeing, knowing only from stories how to finish off a Harpy. Then he had heard Dean scream, and he had automatically sprinted in his direction. He had had no other choice, had just felt that he had to help him. It had been like a pull, uncontrollable. Yes, he had been worried, a feeling he was not exactly familiar with. 

Dean was not a bad man, he was a good and caring man, even if he knew how to hide his deeper emotions well. Besides, Dean was a capable fighter and a good companion. Unlike Heden and Rikuk. 

Annoyed, Castiel shook off thoughts of his companions. Their weakness had doomed the two men from the start. Alone, Castiel at least didn’t lose his focus, didn’t have to consider his companions when he needed to pay attention to his surroundings. 

Inwardly, Castiel counted the days until he would get away from Dean. He was exhausting, inexperienced and drove him crazy with his sayings. Unlike Dean, he detested conversations that had no point, that simply served the purpose of talking to each other. Dean couldn’t stand silence, Castiel had quickly discovered.

As he nimbly made his way through rows of trees, he tried in vain to block out his thoughts. When did his mind start churning like this? He couldn’t remember getting so lost in his thoughts before that he was oblivious to everything else. Actually, his memories were fading more and more anyway. He hated it – losing control, losing himself. 

The river rippled lively, and Castiel took a moment to breathe in the fresh air and the unmistakable scent of the water and the trees. He felt safe here and would have loved to linger in nature. But that was not possible. Castiel sighed again and removed his clothes. 

While he washed himself, cleaned his wounds from the dirt, he wished not for the first time to be able to clean his inside. 

Castiel could no longer find meaning, and this despite the fact that he was better at hunting than many of his peers. He was neither melancholy nor angry. He could not and would not become completely indifferent, even if most villagers would say otherwise. Castiel was confused. That was the best way to put it. 

And he felt strange among his own kind, like he didn’t belong with them. He had no one to confide in. With whom he could talk properly. The community was simply suspicious of him; Castiel had acquired an unmistakable sense of that. To the outside world, his closest acquaintances admittedly acted more or less normal. 

Nevertheless, Castiel could tell by the little things that something was wrong. When he strolled along the paths, the baker’s wife no longer gave him a piece of pastry. For a long time, the blacksmith Torchan had not given him a smile. If he ran out of arrows, Castiel received only a pitiful number. The rest he had to make himself after his actual work in the late evening hours. 

He was part of the community, fulfilled his duties, and yet was almost something of a leper. The question of why remained unanswered. Dean had seen through him quickly, had recognized directly that he was hiding behind his controlled demeanor. 

Dean frustrated him permanently, annoyed him, but he also confused Castiel, gave him a kind of goosebumps with his looks, which he had not been able to assign at first. And a single touch had shaken Castiel, had not let him sleep that dark night back then, so much warmth and happiness he had felt in that one moment. 

Normally, such emotions did not interest him. Emotions were a hindrance in battle, and in his life there was no one who showed him any true affection at all. He was used to it, it was good for his focus not to get lost in such things. 

Dean, on the other hand, was driven by emotion. By his anger, his sense of justice, and also by his caring nature. And he liked that wildness about him, that impetuous and impulsive nature. But he liked it most when Dean was liberated and perky, because then he laughed so lustily, and Castiel had probably never experienced anything more beautiful. 

All of this was his secret, something he certainly wouldn’t tell anyone, especially not Dean. Contradiction, that’s what he felt. Beyond that, Castiel didn’t pursue any other thoughts. It was wrong, he wasn’t allowed, the mission had the highest priority. 

Meanwhile, Castiel remembered. He knew why seeing Dean had felt so familiar when they had met at Master Gilbat’s shell. They had encountered in the woods before. It had been the night on his journey to Gurgling Steep when Castiel had been hurt due to the encounter with the bandits. He couldn’t really grasp the exact details of their meeting, his mind was blurry. What he knew was, that he also hadn’t been in his normal state, so to say. 

Castiel’s form had been different. But how was this possible? He could not transform, not consciously, nonetheless there was something going on with him. Something he shouldn’t know of. With every day he was away from home this knowledge became more apparent. He remembered more, felt more. Someone was preventing it from happening. But why? And why did his mind always be like this? Even more so, Castiel wanted to know what the encounter with Dean had really been like. 

Momentarily, he remembered Dean’s voice, if distorted, the feeling of his touch. These associations were the things he had dreamed about every night since Dean had touched him. When he had healed Dean earlier, he had known at last. And now he was more in a turmoil than ever. Dean was such a complex person, but he was also the only one making him feel... He had to find out that was going on with him lately. 

Tending to Dean’s wounds, his whole body had just vibrated. His back had ached, tingled, and he had felt dizzy. This moment had been so intense, terrifying and - beautiful. And still Castiel didn’t know why he had been able to heal Dean in the first place. 

His memory was so sketchy, so wrong in so many ways, and he wished he could finally find answers. Castiel was fairly certain Dean did not know that it had been him in the forest. 

Therefore, Castiel concluded he, in fact, had looked very much different than he did normally. Did he have another appearance? Yes, supposedly. Then why could he not remember such a vital thing? This elemental part of his existence? 

There was more to him, there always had been, but it was erased from his mind as if Castiel did not deserve being his true self. 

Once he was back in his clothes, he felt better. A growl startled him from his thoughts. He was already preparing for the next fight when a small animal emerged from the bushes. Wasn’t that creature from Dean? It seemed to recognize him as well, and padded up to his feet. "I’m sure your master misses you,“ he muttered. 

Castiel tried to back away, but it was almost as if the animal had latched onto his feet. He carefully patted the pallusan’s fur, which was surprisingly soft. He would have liked to know more about the connection between the animal and Dean, but would not ask the water roamer about it. 

In the end, he would mistake his desire to avoid potential danger through this knowledge for interest in his person. The pallusan nuzzled his leg, and Castiel frowned at the gesture. Such tenderness was entirely unfamiliar to him, threw him off his game. 

Suddenly, someone jumped in front of his feet, pulling him into a headlock. They pressed so hard on his throat that it was difficult for him to breathe. The pallusan had escaped quickly. "Give me your money, or you’ll regret it.“ 

Without thinking, Castiel kicked backwards. His boots did not miss the effect, as the intruder cried out. Quick as a flash, he reached for his dagger, aimed at his opponent’s hood. 

In the next moment, his opponent was pinned to the tree. That he had thought he had any chance against Castiel at all. Ridiculous. He had defended himself against such amateurish attacks many years ago. Since he regularly put the weak and incurable out of their misery, a single thoughtless man was no threat to him. 

Only upon closer inspection did he realize that he was not dealing with a man at all. Immediately Castiel brought his bow into position, strung an arrow. "Don’t move, or you’re dead.“ The attacker’s arms were blue and covered with spines in a peculiar pattern - an inkweaver. 

These creatures dwelled in small cottages far up in the treetops. No one knew what region they originally came from, they did not belong to any community. According to stories, a powerful mage had created and bred them himself long ago. 

Therefore, Castiel suspected that they were nothing more than a failed experiment. With the best will in the world, he could not imagine why anyone would voluntarily create such beasts. 

Inkweavers were not peaceful, but in most cases not dangerous enough to be considered monsters. Their kind existed in barely significant numbers, and so increasingly fell into oblivion. They were worse than bandits, ambushing their opponents. Like magpies, treasures attracted them irrevocably, they could not escape shiny things. 

Rather, their brains buzzed so much from the charms that they could not help but overpower every comer. If wanderers wore too much jewelry on their bodies, it was quite possible for the inkweavers to tug at theirs in such a way that their bones shattered. 

In the madness, violence sometimes burst out of them uncontrollably. Their spikes caused fever dreams and terrible visions, not to mention deep wounds. Even worse were their legs, which could wrap themselves tightly and impenetrably around everything like tendrils. 

"Please, let me go,“ the inkweaver pleaded now. "I meant you no harm.“ Skeptically, Castiel eyed the attacker. His features dripped with abject panic; suddenly he apparently didn’t feel so superior. Perhaps he was telling the truth, was of the sort of inkweaver who was greedy but not murderous. His will to believe him was shaken by discovering bloodstains on his clothes and neck.

"You’re lying, you tried to ambush me, you would have thrown me in the river to die.“ He saw through his ploy crystal clear now. As his breath came rattling in, and he looked around frantically, he knew he had been right in his assessment. "Have you already killed innocents?“, Castiel asked him busily. 

"Sure,“ the inkweaver now replied with a shrug, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "They were weak creatures. They would have been killed by harpies or other beasts anyway. At least I could still profit from their deaths; with another creature, they would have merely rotted and faded into oblivion.“ Now, in the midst of danger, he showed his true character. 

"Is that so?“ Castiel hissed. "I thought your kind had made an agreement with the ruler in Silvagion, at least not to kill anyone here.“

"The ruler isn’t here, is he?“ Disinterested, the inkweaver lifted his shoulders. Castiel grew angry at his arrogant attitude, shaking so badly he almost had to lower his bow. "Where would we be if everyone disregarded rules?“

"That’s none of my concern. I fight for my survival every day.“  
"You steal out of greed, not because you need it. You wear the finest fabrics, no one who is poor would be able to afford them.“ The inkweaver looked at Castiel blankly.

"I will do better.“ 

Castiel nodded, looking at the surrounding trees. "Thank you for telling me about your motives. That was very enlightening.“ Out of the corner of his eye, he registered the inkweaver tampering with his coat. Castiel fired a warning arrow, and the inkweaver raised his arms in the air defensively. 

"Will you finally release me, unspeakable nuisance?“ Mockingly, Castiel raised his eyebrow. 

"Oh, I was planning on releasing you. One way or another. Since it turns out you’re a heartless monster, I’m going to enable you to walk the righteous walk now.“ He loosened the arrow. "To your death.“

***  
"I see you were enjoying yourselves,“ Castiel announced himself. With a jerk, Dean turned around. He looked more cheerful than before, obviously buzzed. Castiel held a whole bowl of water under his arm. 

"What took you so long?“ Dean asked with a puzzled expression and mild annoyance. In the background, only loud snoring could be heard from Bobby.  
"I got held up.“ 

Staying short-spoken was better, Castiel decided. They shouldn’t bother with long chats. From behind, he pushed Dean down onto the floor with one hand.  
"Are you this rough with your lovers, too?“ Dean’s mouth was faster than his brain again, and Castiel had to suppress a laugh. 

"No, I like to let them hang upside down from the trees,“ Castiel returned dryly. A snort escaped Dean, and Castiel furrowed his forehead. Had he been joking? He never made jokes. Probably Castiel was still in shock himself and his brain was playing tricks on him. 

"Well, I’d love to witness that sometime.“ Dean’s teasing tone delighted Castiel, at the same time he despised himself for taking pleasure in it. This was an aspect Dean couldn’t learn about him, the fact Dean was responsible for his mood increases. 

Dean, why don’t you just shut up, he inwardly scolded his companion. If Dean annoyed him too much now, he would be missing an arm later, it was as simple as that. At least Dean’s pain had become visibly more bearable, and he relaxed a bit. 

"This will probably cause you a lot of pain. You have to relax, feeling tense will only make this worse.“

The corners of Dean’s mouth turned up. "That so? Well, you can do something for me which would release the tension a bit.“ And then he winked, whereupon Castiel felt utterly confused. What had he meant by that? It was not his fault that cleansing wounds was a painful ordeal.

"I don’t understand,“ Castiel finally admitted.  
"Hit me with a story.“  
"A story?“

"Dunno. Tell me about your village, something about you. You haven’t told me much.“ Dean’s voice came out staccato, trembling, hence the only reasonable explanation for his behavior Castiel could come up with was his delirious state. 

Castiel mused about Dean’s request while he sat down beside him to inspect the wounds. They looked better, much better, they were already healing, and Castiel had still no idea how he had managed to achieve that. 

"Okay,“ he replied, and removed the blooded bandage. He put alcohol on Dean’s upper arm, and Dean cursed immediately.

Castiel shrugged his shoulders and muttered, "I have warned you“. A smug smile stole onto his lips, and he wondered why Dean’s presence had this effect on him. "Smartass, I ain’t hearing your soothing narrator’s voice yet.“

"Well, you are already aware Bow’s Wreath suffers from the plague. The good thing is we have it under control thanks to our methods to gain clean water after all. We isolated the sick people immediately, stopping the sickness from spreading further. Hence, the daily life can continue now which made the worries easier to handle for most inhabitants. They are more joyful now, and will continue to let our village stay prosper. I have been responsible for watching the isolation camps. Nobody is allowed to get out or in without my permission.“ 

Castiel finished his monologue, content with the way he explained everything to Dean. By now, he was putting a cloth over Dean’s skin, washing everything thoroughly. Now and then, he touched Dean’s skin, and felt a strange tingling in his stomach, quickly asking himself if a small rest of poison still remained on Dean. No, he thought, that was not the case, otherwise both of them would be in a very critical condition.

Dean opened one of his eyes, then the other, and raised his eyebrows in the way that made Castiel nervous. Then he clicked his tongue. "You’re kidding.“  
Castiel cocked his head to the side. "No, that is the truth. I would not lie about this situation, it is unethical.“

Dean grinned and moistened his lips. "Pal, I understood the significance. I meant that can’t be the best you got. That was so depressing and also kinda boring. Don’t get me wrong. I am thrilled your village is better, but where’s the part about you?“  
Castiel didn’t understand what Dean was getting at. "I told you how I was resp-“

"I know! Life isn’t all about responsibilities though. Trust me, I’m still learning this the hard way. You- you don’t only do your duties, follow orders and go to sleep. Then rise and shine again. Same procedure. That’s not life, that’s merely existing.“ 

Dean had hit a weak spot. Castiel had doubts, every day he developed more of them. His brothers were too cruel and acted violently without a reason at all. Furthermore, Castiel felt the urge to stand up to his family, to not simply accept everything they convinced him was the truth. 

The killings, the way they treated Castiel, believing in vague gods. Castiel hissed and panicked, before he remembered nobody could hear his thoughts. Or at least that’s what he hoped. 

"I love wandering through the forest, and I also enjoy swinging through the trees and touching the moss, the thing which you mocked me about.“ Castiel paused deliberately, noticing with content that Dean winced at that. 

He bandaged Dean’s shoulder now, imagining his favorite place. "There is one spot nobody knows, at least not that I am aware of. Four ancient trees form a circle which rather reminds me of a cloverleaf. Those trees have huge trunks and little holes where birds are nesting and also other creatures with whom I speak on occasion.“ 

Castiel let out a laugh, and stroked Dean’s arm, lost in thought. Only when Dean made a surprised noise, he continued with the actual bandaging. 

"The ground is bouncy, almost pillowy since the leaves are falling down frequently, forming a blanket. The moss is so comfortable I sometimes sleep there in the summer. I adore standing there, in the middle of this cloverleaf, simply breathing. Feeling the wind on my skin which is barely a whisper in this part of the forest. Like a friend. It touches my skin, and thereby worships the parts of my body nobody else deems worthy. Also, the air is pure and contains some sweet and fruity notes. I never found out why since there aren’t any plants nearby that carry berries or something similar.“ 

He interrupted himself again, not sure how much he should tell Dean. The water roamer was quiet now, his features more relaxed than he’d ever seen them, and the tiniest smile was painted on his lips. 

Castiel’s chest clenched, and he had so swallow because his throat felt so dry. "I- I don’t own much for myself, but this place belongs to me. This sounds probably ridiculous to your ears, but I stored some items there. A knife, some arrows I will probably never use there. Clothes. A few pages I copied from a book.“ 

Castiel had some stray thoughts before focusing on their conversation again. Dean’s face was still so relaxed and somehow appealing to his eyes. 

"I had a tough day once, worse than others, feeling so alone. I ran there as fast as I could. And I saw this creature, its kind is called 'pechy' in the common language. It has a furry body, and gold-brown, almost bronze ears that are so big they don’t seem proportional for the rest of his body. Somehow this pechy felt how miserable I was. It approached me, tugged at my dirty clothes and put me to the ground.“ Castiel smiled at that memory. 

"Mind you, those creatures are small, and I still don’t know how it possessed so much strength. I lied down, the creature climbed onto me, sometimes walking over my chest. And I felt content, watched the sky and the trees above me. The sun’s rays shone onto the trees, making the crones glister and creating the most beautiful shades of green I’ve ever seen.“ 

Feeling warm inside, Castiel thought about his spot, this extraordinary green spot. His own _am leeyriv – 'place of hope'._

Now that Castiel reflected on this matter he noticed Dean’s eyes resembled this experience. Normally they had this remarkable emerald tone, but depending on the light and Dean’s emotions the green changed, leaving Castiel in awe. At this moment, Dean opened his eyes, and Castiel’s breathing stopped. Another shade of green. 

"You ever seen your little buddy again?“ Dean whispered hoarsely.  
"Sometimes, yes. Those encounters were always nice, but never reached the experience I told you about.“

"Mm,“ Dean hummed. He rose until he was sitting, and was suddenly so close Castiel forgot where he was. Their noses almost touched, and Castiel felt Dean’s breath on his face. He saw all those freckles which were intriguing as well. His eyes really were gorgeous, and at this short moment, Castiel wished he was able to show Dean his favorite spot. At his peculiar moment he allowed himself to hope for a better future than the one which was awaiting him. 

While he absorbed all there was to Dean’s face and still not grasped all there was to it, he knew it was in vain. Dean didn’t say anything, just continued watching him with curiosity. Not angry or mocking or amused for a change. 

"Didn’t take you for the poet type at all,“ Dean said, his voice scratchy. "Guess there might be hidden more behind your stoic manners and those blue eyes, huh?“ 

Castiel didn’t know whether this was meant complimentary, so he remained silent and averted his eyes, putting some much-needed distance between them. 

The tension made him want to do things he had never considered before in his life. This was not right. Dean would despise him even more, would he find out he enjoyed this closeness and more particularly the touches. The reasons were a mystery to him, but he had never been more certain of anything in his life. 

"That was some nice imagery, Cas,“ Dean breathed while Castiel finished his task. He smiled to himself, not knowing what to make of this intimate moment. 

Apparently Dean had gripped one of his arms at some point because now Castiel sensed two fingers stroking his wrist very softly. 

As a matter of fact, Dean let his fingers wander over the thin skin as if he grounded himself by feeling Castiel’s pulse. What a ridiculous thought, Castiel scolded himself. 

"What actually stopped you in the forest? Met some stranger?“ Dean muttered, half asleep. When he slept, Castiel always wished he was able to visit him in his dreams. Dean appeared so much at peace with the world and himself. Except when he had another nightmare. Several times Castiel had been on the verge of waking him up, instead he had just sat closer to Dean at night, looking at him, trying to understand who or what had caused him so much pain in the past. There was more to Dean than what he carried on the outside. 

"Such a creature as you have. It suddenly appeared out of the water and pulled at me. After that, it followed me and kept running between my legs.“ Suddenly Dean was wide awake again. Castiel was sure he had seen Dean’s pallusan; on the other hand, he didn’t want to raise Dean’s hopes only to dash them. Dean had jumped up by now, and Castiel hissed in frustration. He quickly stood as well, and followed Dean. 

"Ciwu!“ Dean shouted ahead of him, running toward the river. Castiel heard the crunch of branches and a hiss. "Are you trying to kill us all?“ Castiel punched him right in the face. 

"Are you crazy?“ Dean reared up in front of him and pierced him with his gaze. "We’re safe here. I’m certainly not going to skulk around and walk on dead silent the whole time. That may be uplifting for you. But I like to entertain myself. Now, if you’ll excuse me.“

"Just act reasonable for once.“ Castiel slapped his hand against his forehead. "You run around like you’ve seen it all. And then something like with the Harpies happens.“ 

Dean just kept walking, not paying any further attention to Castiel, and kept calling out to Ciwu. Castiel suspected that he was hiding. Maybe he was just watching them from a distance to make sure he was okay. After all, Dean had forbidden him to come along for fear that it would be too dangerous for him. 

Dean turned around, looking at him furiously. Anger, always so much anger. "Like you were that prepared for this. At least I don’t treat my fellow people with condescension. I have never done anything to you.“ He cursed. "Now you got what you wanted, Ciwu is gone,“ he yelled, spitting on the ground. 

"Folly never saved anyone from danger, prudence did.“ Castiel braced his hands on his hips. "Unlike you, I wasn’t wrapped in cotton wool, so spare me your assessments of me.“ As soon as sad those words, he already regretted them. Castiel knew about the situation with Dean’s father, but he was just so angry. 

"Do you ever listen to yourself? You know nothing about my life. My mother has been dead for years. Of course, I love my brother and my work. But apart from that? Day after day I have to see how good acquaintances are on the verge of starvation. And we can hardly help 'em, because we are barely able to make ends meet ourselves. Oh, and not to mention my wonderful dad who doesn’t give a crap about me and always pushes new pressure on me. Nice definition of picture-perfect life.“

"I have a place to live, but no real home anymore. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before they disown me.“ Castiel winced. He hadn’t expected his emotional outburst. He was breathing heavily, struggling with himself.

"I’m sorry about that. But the fact that you seem to be more or less on your own is your own fault. That’s what happens when you don’t care one bit about your fellow man.“ That was harsh, and definitely not what Castiel wanted to hear right now.

"You have not the slightest idea.“ Castiel held a knife so close to Dean’s throat that blood might spurt at any moment. His face was inches from Dean’s. Castiel’s eyes spat venom, he knew that. "Find your animal. I won’t save you another time.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter from Castiel's POV! :) Please let me know what you think. :)
> 
> Next time: Dean and Cas finally reach the village Bow's Wreath.


	9. Companionship for beginners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas bicker about their companionship and learn new truths. Then, they arrive in Bow's Wreath where Dean gets shown around and meets the villlage's chief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Castiel's home village, Bow's Wreath, will be introduced. :) Also, I hope you're ready for some awkwardness (mostly on Dean's side) and more mysteries. 
> 
> My comment on Dean: "Dean, sweetie, you might have a little crush." *coughs*
> 
> I wanted to include some light-hearted scenes at this point of the story because I want to do justice to their dynamic, and other chapters will be a bit more angsty. 
> 
> Enjoy! 🙂

**Dean**

Dean had suspected it for a long time, now Castiel had confirmed his suspicions: He was dangerous. He was tired of the arguments and didn’t feel like talking anymore. It was the perfect moment to get to the bottom of his grandfather’s stories. To learn more about why Dean had this journal now. So he dove deep into the entries again.

The travels captivated him, and soon he lost all sense of time. He finally learned things about regions where he had not been yet. He learned about meetings his grandfather had held with the Artimagi. Again and again there were entries about trips to Glaciria, each more exciting than the other. So much had happened there then, whereas today only the uprisings there were reported. There had to be much more than the pugnacious and the mighty Nuvolin.

Dean wished he could have these firsthand experiences. Among the little adventures and business meetings, texts about the woman his grandfather had really adored were always mixed in. Texts about her were always very rapturous, consisting mainly of admiring words about her body, so Dean soon skimmed over them.

He was too embarrassed by these salacious words, the intimate encounters that were not meant for his eyes. Moreover, he could not glean any closer background or revealing information from the texts. Dean could not forget that his grandfather had been here not much older than he was now. At that time he had had to express his euphoria somehow.

After a few, almost daily entries, the texts became shorter and much less frequent. The next entry that aroused his interest was already from the next year. It had been written with a pen, had been written down extremely accurately. No word was crossed out, no word stood out illegibly. Everything was so neat, which gave the entry something solemn, something that Nalel wanted to read again and again.

_"Year 674 of the Golden (V) Age, Day 14._

_My life has changed so much in less than a year. Divinae is unlike any other person I have ever met. She is strong and loving and passionate. Every time we meet, I desire her more than I did the last time. Never will I get enough of her body. Sometimes she is insatiable, so that we spend whole days just in her canopy. As soon as guards or servants appear, I hide in her closet._

_Yes, we still keep our relationship a secret. I tell my acquaintances that I am away on business, but I spend weeks only with her. We both want to enjoy our freedom. I have too many goals to focus my life only on one woman. For this, I get full understanding from Divinae. At this moment she is lying next to me, and I am occasionally stroking a stubborn strand of hair out of her face. She is beautiful. I kiss her neck, and she lolls under me.“_

Dean’s breathing had quickened. With that, he had certainty. His grandfather and the current queen had had a relationship. A noncommittal one, but there was no doubt that his grandfather had fallen head over heels for her. Perhaps she had been a different woman then.

Maybe something had happened to her in her later years that had made her cruel. He shook his head. At a certain point she had decided to have the king murdered, that did not speak for her innocence. How was he to deal with this information? He did not suspect anything good and hardly dared to open the next page.

_"Year 675 of the Golden (V.) Age, Day 256._

_For a long time I have not written anything down. Possibly it was because I could not manage my emotions anymore. For a while, my love for Divinae completely faded into the background. Because my research on the hovisiv finally bore fruit. In fact, the material offers more potential than I ever thought possible. The tunnels my ancestors built are numerous, but my family at the time only saw the benefit to their trade, their daily lives._

_I, however, will build an entire network in Taleria. All the way to the royal castle, even to the farthest north, I would like to reach. It would be an achievement from which my family could benefit. I might even find a way to bypass the ritual, and let an outsider in on the secret. It is a shame, a waste, not to do anything great with this miracle._

_Over the last few months I spent lots of time on building the tunnels, on forming alliances. I met the most interesting man while I was at it. He introduced himself only by the name of Kioldán which is one more example of his probable high age. He is well-read, cunning and a mage. We agreed to deepen our acquaintance for he wants to learn more and knows many people. On top of that, he knows faster ways of travelling – by magical support. Of course, I only vaguely told him what I am about to do. For now, my focus is on gathering the material._

_The last few months have been exhausting because I’ve been diving so much that I often haven’t recovered properly for days. But it has been worth it. Sixty camps around the country are filled with hovisiv. My luck is that the material is so light, otherwise I would never have been able to transport it so many miles._ _Now begins perhaps my most important task - to build more tunnels throughout Taleria.“_

Dean already knew that his grandfather had built more tunnels than anyone before him had ever managed. The scandal of what he had read was how willing his grandfather had been to reveal the secret. He couldn’t imagine it, but apparently there were many things that could still surprise him.

What other insights would he gain? Was he ready to discard his idealized impressions of his beloved grandfather? His heart was racing. Nalel had wanted Dean to learn of his transgressions one day, which could only mean that Dean was involved. What other reason could there be that his grandfather had swept him and him alone the secret language in which he had written this book?

What had happened then that was not allowed to leak out? Slowly it dawned on him what situation he was confronted with. His grandfather had done something terrible and Dean had to make amends. He had no choice but to go down that path. Once again, reading the diary had sapped Dean’s strength.

The question whether he should take a break was assumed when Castiel relieved him for the next watch, giving him a long look which shortly reminded him of their strange intimacy the day Cas told him about his favorite spot. He still heard his voice, felt his touch, and it was driving him nuts. Only now did Dean notice the leaden fatigue that had taken over his mind.

***  
Someone shook his shoulder violently and Dean sleepily opened his eyes. Even before he caught sight of his counterpart, he smelled forest and honey. "Wake up!“

He panted and groaned. "Can you be a little gentler?“  
"No, I used up my capacities to that end yesterday. Now don’t sulk around here, Bobby and I have been up forever. Maybe you should have slept earlier last night.“ Again he groaned and sat up with a jerk.

All at once Castiel’s face was right in front of his, and Dean’s gaze lingered on his eyes as it so often did. If they had been murderous the previous day, now there was only a slight annoyance in them.

"My body needed to regenerate, Ice Princess,“ Dean hissed indignantly.  
Castiel eyed him critically, then set about changing his bandages. "You should be exposed to the wilderness for a few days, you’d be hardened quickly.“ He would have liked to hurl another comment at him, but he remembered their task. The longer it took them to make the trip, the later it would be before he returned home.

Besides, he enjoyed the gentle pressure Castiel applied, feeling his fingertips on his skin again and again, then the entire ball of his hand. He shouldn’t enjoy such touches so much, especially not from a person who made him angry all the time and obviously couldn’t stand him at all.

"May I check on the wounds on your back as well?“ Cas asked after a while. Dean only hummed in agreement and laid down on his belly. At length, Castiel tampered with his clothes, muttering something.

"Everything okay there?“ Dean asked.  
"I am not sure,“ Cas mumbled. "Since when do you have this?“

Dean groaned loudly, accidentally biting a few blades of grass. "What the heck are talking about, man?“  
"The mark.“

"The fucking what now?“ Dean turned around so abruptly that he collided with Castiel’s upper body. Castiel, apparently as surprised as he was, had immediately grabbed him by the back and held him against him a little too tenderly to be considered appropriate in public.

As a guilty pleasure Dean stayed like that for a few seconds before he felt he had halfway recovered from the shock. He positioned himself so that he was finally sitting cross-legged in front of Castiel. What was going on here? Dean didn’t know what Castiel was talking about. He had a few scars on his body, yes, but this one was unknown to him. With narrowed eyes, he motioned Cas to continue.

"There is a wave. About the size of my hand.“  
"Is it blue?“

"Dean!“

Dean laughed and shook his head. "Look, I really have not the slightest clue what this stupid wave is, probably another scar. I mean, we had a kinda heavy fight going on. What’s the big deal anyway?“

"This is no mere scar, Dean. If I am correct – which I am fairly certain about-“ Repeatedly, Dean rolled his eyes but he said nothing. "...you have been hallmarked. Such marks always have a meaning, a meaning which defines the bearer.“

"Uh-huh. Sounds terrific. Well, we’ll figure that out later, huh? Don’t feel different.“ Dean shrugged his shoulders and got dressed again. In reality, this mysterious sign and the obvious fear in Castiel’s voice scared the daylights out of him. He really needed to check this weird mark out, and more importantly, he had fo find an anwer as to where it came from and what it meant.  
"As you wish,“ Castiel murmured and looked at Dean for a long time, a very long time, before finally averting his gaze.

Dean looked for the position of the sun and examined the map. "We need to go a little further north and then follow the western route.“

"Thanks, I never would have figured that out without you,“ Castiel returned. Had Cas really used sarcasm? Who would’ve guessed that.

"If you can’t have the last word, your day has failed too, hasn’t it? I’m just trying to be constructive.“ Dean hadn’t eaten yet, was still feeling pain, and therefore found their discussions more exhausting than usual. With the greatest effort, he packed up his things and put on his boots.

"I guess I’ll know the way to my home better than a clueless water roamer,“ Castiel snapped. Dean took a few deep breaths and drank a sip of water. He acknowledged Castiel’s raised eyebrows with a broad grin. Maybe he should change his strategy and rather go back to provoking Castiel with his statements. Hungrily, he took a few bites from his loaf of bread. Finally, he was awake enough to carry on their conversation again with full concentration.

"Aren’t you going to stop harping on my age all the time?“ Dean asked, involuntarily amused. "I think you’re only doing that 'cause you’re afraid of taking a fancy to me.“ Now Cas looked incredulous and pulled hard on the bandage.

Oh, Dean had definitely been flirting with Cas again, something he really hadn’t expected from their dynamic. Well, Castiel wouldn’t even get that he was flirting, let alone react to it. Not that Dean was disappointed by that, no. Still, it kind of appealed to Dean to draw Cas out.

"You’re being ridiculous, Dean. We come from different worlds and your views are-“  
"Well, that’s what keeps the fire burning, right?“ Dean interrupted Cas, and was way too involved in his current "role" to actually reflect on his words anymore.

"Think about the great stories with the most epic companionships. They all have things in common. Overcoming obstacles, fighting side by side against a common enemy. Trust. Heated discussions until dawn, fighting and rolling through the soil until it isn’t actually fighting anymore. Warming each other when the bonfire isn’t hot enough. Getting to know the real person on the journey. It’s all about the tension and solving it, ya know. For the happy ending.“

Oh, he shall be damned. Crap. That was about the most embarrassing thing he’d said in forever. What had gotten into him? He had only wanted to tell about stories with intriguing companionships, not the ones where people fucked their brains out at some point. That was so not a thing he’d even reflected on, let alone had read about at any point. Of course not.

It was like Dean couldn’t stop himself from being open with Castiel anymore. Something had definitely changed between them, they were closer in a way – and there had been this strange familiarity since the very beginning. However, he had to keep his composure, and so he just smirked at Cas and wiggled his eyebrows in a way he’d never done in his entire life.

He was such an idiot. Why was his mouth quicker than his brain when he was nervous?

Castiel remained silent, but he tilted his head again, studying Dean like he tried to figure out whether Dean had gone insane. Which was a fair point. Then he cleared his throat. "Your mind really is peculiar. I don’t understand how other people can keep track with your uncalled-for talks and-“

"C’mon, you’re talking about weird minds when you’re the one with the whole Oh-I’m-so-mysterious-and-badass-and-nobody-can-change-that“-attitude. I mean, pal, that’s all awesome and might be material to swoon over for some people, but you ain’t perfect, ya know. For example, you-“  
"Dean, I am aware of my flaws, I don’t need you for telling me. I only meant your tendency to babble about-“

"Idjits!“ Bobby screamed. "I hate to interrupt your foreplay, but we really should start packing up.“ In unison, they jerked their heads in Bobby’s direction. "And no, I don’t want to hear any more comments from you on that right now.“

Cas led the way, and Bobby and Dean continued their conversation from the day before.

"What is that stone on your sword, anyway?“ Dean asked him after a while. He had immediately noticed a green glow in the fight, but had initially mistaken it for a reflection of the blades. The mercenary wrapped himself in silence, his gaze wandering away as if deep in thought.

"An enchanted emerald,“ Bobby then replied.  
"Is that an Artimagi shard?“ Dean burst out in disbelief. He had long been interested in mages, wanting to understand how they gained their powers. So far, however, he had never met the right interlocutor.

"I will leave you at the next fork on the road,“ the mercenary then suddenly announced. "My people are waiting for me.“ He said this in such an enigmatic tone that Dean’s curiosity was aroused. "Too bad, I was getting a little used to you. Three of us will certainly have a better chance in the woods.“

"I think you two lovebirds are already doing quite well here.“ As always, his voice was pure serenity. He lowered his head and whispered his next words. "This isn’t goodbye forever, I’d love to recruit you guys.“

"What do you mean? We both have professions, we don’t need mercenary contracts.“  
"That’s not what I’m talking about. This is about something bigger.“ He rummaged in his coat. "Take this.“ He thrust a blue stone into Dean’s hand. "Our identifying marker. This will open all the doors for you. After the fork, follow the white signs on the trees, and you’ll find us. If you must, you can bring your savage with you, too.“ He nodded at Castiel who merely rolled his eyes.

"Are you just indicating what I’m thinking here?“ Dean asked. It had sounded quite like a union, a rebellion.

"I’m not implying anything at all, I’m just a collector.“ An artifact collector. Dean had heard rumors about them. They searched for valuable items and sold them under the table.

In the same way, they roamed the forests, taking whatever supplies they could find. All the proceeds went to the poor, the hungry. An honorable task, but it held unthinkable dangers.

"I gotta decline,“ Dean finally replied. "My work awaits me and I cannot abandon my family. Good luck to you, though!“  
Bobby shrugged his shoulders. "Think about it. Having a water roamer in our ranks would give us a considerable advantage. With your agility and acumen, you’d be tailor-made for it, honestly.“ Dean reflected on his words a long time afterwards.

***  
Another three days later, the village of Bow’s Wreath was finally in sight. Dean was happy about this, he could hardly wait to return home after completing his mission. At last he would be able to hold Sammy in his arms again, listen to his imaginative stories and play ideas. Finally, he would get to explore the water worlds again.

Bobby had said goodbye to them a day earlier, giving Dean another meaningful look. Although his words stirred something inside him, for the moment he just wanted to do his duty and then return to his family.

He could not waste his time on more fuss, however honorable the activities might be. Others were certainly better suited for these challenges. Only a few more days and he could return to his family and friends. The construction of his shell was waiting for him. Cas interrupted his thoughts.

"We have to go through that gate up ahead.“ There were two guards posted at said passageway, who nodded at them only briefly when they recognized Cas. Were all his people so taciturn? Those would certainly make for interesting encounters, gatherings, or even relationships. Dean snorted briefly at the thought.

They entered the village square and suddenly Dean knew why Cas had reacted so strangely to the structure of his hometown. The village square was sort of the starting point, the real center of Bow’s Wreath. Whether to the stores, the housing units, or the wooded areas, the path always began right here.

Wide and massive stone steps led to a plateau made of several layers of wood. Judging by the smells of pastries and scorched metal, this was the shopping area. Dean would have been too happy to take a look at the weapons, perhaps even acquire a new dagger. "You’re not here for pleasure,“ Cas whispered gruffly.

Sometimes Cas scared him. How did he do it? For the umpteenth time, he felt caught by his statements. Dean rolled his eyes demonstratively, but forced himself to give him his full attention again. "I’m frigging thrilled you mentioned it. I’d forgotten all about it. So relieved you’re here to remind me.“

One would have thought that after the dangers they had survived, after all the obstacles they had overcome together, their relationship would be less strained. Rather, they were currently in a kind of truce, which was already progress.

Only out of the corner of his eye did Dean catch brief glimpses of the actual apartment buildings - if they could be called that. The small buildings were all spherical, with attachments tied or glued all around. Apparently, they served different purposes.

Some, for example, obviously formed only a squiggly decoration, others served as a balcony, still others represented a transition to other buildings or paths. On the sides, there were still high beams of dark wood, which additionally supported the little spherical houses. Depending on how the light fell, they glittered in a peculiar way.

Dean could not get out of his amazement. He knew that the true art of building was reserved for the inhabitants of Glaciria. Nevertheless, it was impressive how precisely and practically the Phiconians had adapted to their habitat, made it their own without destroying it.

He was about to ask Cas what raw material the outer walls of the spheres were made of when they came to a halt in front of a passage, or more precisely a tunnel, of densely grown ivy vines.

Cas shrugged his shoulders at Dean’s questioning expression. "This is gaantó, the tunnel of the gods. We have to pass through one at a time,“ he explained. In his view, that apparently said it all. By now Dean knew that he followed and respected the customs of his faith, but he could not pin down whether he believed in them. He kept walking.

At some point Dean realized that he was unconsciously slowing his pace. Outside the tunnel he heard chirping, whistling and an indefinable squeaking, otherwise it was frighteningly silent. Only after a few moments did he register a colorful soundscape of different voices ahead of him.

Finally, he came to a stop in an oval room that gave off an emerald light. At first Dean thought it was lights on the walls, until he realized he was in a semi-open cave. Sonolawis were all over the walls. As Dean knew from his plant books, these flowers reacted with humidity and cold over the years and eventually developed into stone-like formations.

The small holes in the cave ceiling let sunlight or moonlight through, which probably led to this unique color image. "I know. When you first see it in real life, it’s incomprehensible,“ Cas whispered. Dean turned his head slightly to the left and was surprised to read genuine fascination on his face.

"Castiel, you’re back. And not alone - how gratifying.“ Cas took a few steps forward, very cautiously and nowhere near as nimble and determined as he normally moved. Not far from them stood a man with broad shoulders and a mighty demeanor. Most extraordinary about him was his Mohawk.

"Greetings, panó. Yes, your advisor was right, Master Gilbat was very accommodating. He gave me the necessary ingredients and also dispatched his former apprentice Dean, now a fully trained water roamer himself, to help us with the potion.“ He spoke respectfully of him. Dean wondered what it would be like if he actually meant what he said.

"Well, well. Dean, step forward.“ Undecided how to act in the face of formality, Dean walked forward. From his people, he was used to warmer and more familiar interactions. He indicated a slight bow and greeted the leader. "Thank you for coming,“ he spoke again, running his hand over his chin. "I am Alistair, the leader of this village. My foundling Castiel reported to me that you protected him from the clutches of the Harpies.“

Dean frowned at the false statement, but did not contradict. "I thank you for that as well. Is five gold coins a fair reward?“ Foundling? That was the first time Dean had heard that. Why had Cas never mentioned that the leader was more or less his father? He had always thought of him as a normal hunter - as normal as he could be, given his dismissive and often cold demeanor. Heatedly, Dean rummaged in his memory to see if he had a thank-you formula ready.

In a half-questioning, half-determined voice, he put in, "Railé ma, my lord, but that is not necessary.“  
"A righteous man, that is to my liking. I assume Castiel has already made you aware of our circumstances. We have the plague under control to the extent that we have moved all the sick into isolation camps that are behind walls. As a result, we no longer have any new contagions, but we want to cure those who are sick, as is understood.“ Dean nodded, this was not new information for him.

Then he got right down to business. For his taste, he couldn’t get back home fast enough. "I don’t wanna seem rude-“ He paused for a moment, in truth he didn’t care. "But we should get started on the potion. From what I understand, it’s getting urgent.“ The leader nodded and motioned for an older man - apparently Master Gilbat’s acquaintance - to show Dean around.

Dean had studied his master’s recipe thoroughly and had memorized all the steps. So there was no danger that anyone could even begin to copy the recipe. Although it was not too elaborate, it turned out to be tricky in some places. If one didn’t know the exact instructions, one could quickly create a useless potion, or one that even had the opposite effect.

Soon, Dean sank into his work and toiled until the early evening hours. He had worked undercover the whole time so as not to reveal the secrets. Nevertheless, the leader, his wife, the master, some guards and Cas had remained in the cave. The latter had not uttered a word since he had introduced Dean to his foster father. Eventually, he reached the point where the potion had to draw for a few hours.

"For today I can do nothing more. I can’t implement the last steps until tomorrow morning,“ Dean called into the silence. Resting in himself, Alistair stepped closer. "All right. We’ll set up camp for you.“ He turned to go and his wife’s voice rang out.

"My dear heart, wouldn’t you like to invite our guest to the festivities? He might enjoy some nice company.“

Actually, after the debacle at the spring festival, Dean didn’t feel like celebrating. He would have preferred to just lie down and sleep. That way he could complete his task the next day and then return home as soon as possible.

"Of course. How could I forget?“ The leader nodded to a guard, judging by his armor and demeanor, it had to be the captain. "Inform the elders of our guest’s presence.“

Then he looked back at Dean. "You are cordially invited to our traditional feast of sacrifice. We sacrifice animals to the gods, share stories and enjoy our community.“ Dean, not wanting to appear rude, smiled briefly at his counterpart. "I appreciate your hospitality. Looking forward to getting to know your traditions.“

"We have you to thank.“ Alistair watched his foundling, and nodded at him. "Castiel, you will be on your best behavior today. You already know each other, so you will keep Dean company tonight.“

Cas not leaving his side all evening? Well, this could get interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: The feast of sacrifice with some bonding time between Dean and Cas. 🙂
> 
> Unfortunately, I have to work again; hence I have to time my updates more. Regular updates will hopefully be every weekend, but I plan to update more often for the time being. Next chapter will be online on Tuesday.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. 🙂


	10. Feast of sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean learns more about Cas. At night, they participate in the feast of sacrifice and enjoy the legends and traditions. Then, Dean saves Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After long consideration I decided to split chapter 10 into two chapters since it has gotten so long (more than 5500 words...). This chapter is kinda a turning point, hence I couldn’t bring myself to rush it. 
> 
> Warning: Since the Phiconians are, um, open and uninhibited with their sexuality, there will be a very short passage (like two or three sentences) with non-consensual touching. Basically, an asshole makes a move on Cas and tries to grope him *rollseyes*, emphasis is on "tries“, but I had to mention it. Dean will be there to save Cas, obviously. :)
> 
> In that context: Dean is a good guy! 🙂 (And so is Cas, of course...)

**Dean**

For a few moments, Cas didn’t move, didn’t respond at all to Alastair’s words. Dean frowned, trying to understand their dynamic. "Castiel!“ his foster father shouted angrily. "Go with Dean to his sleeping place right now and accompany him to the feast.“  
"Yes, panó.“  
"Your reaction took a long time.“ The reproachful tone did not escape Dean, and slowly it dawned on Dean that Cas was indeed not experiencing particularly rosy circumstances either.

"Forgive me.“ Castiel’s gaze remained fixed and Dean admired him for his strength. Expressionless, Cas looked him in the eye. "Come, then. I’ll lead you to your sleeping place. You can put your things down and wash yourself. We don’t have much time.“ By now Dean understood better why Cas wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine. After all, all his people seemed to keep polite gestures or even friendliness to a minimum. One by one, they passed through the tunnel and stepped out into the open.

"Dammit, wait for me,“ Dean called out, but Cas walked straight toward his target. Although Dean didn’t emphasize another heated conversation with Cas, he was the only one in this village whom he knew better. Cas hissed and made a sweeping turn on his heel.

"Like I said, Dean: we don’t have time. There’s your sleeping place up ahead.“ He pointed to a small stone hut at the far end of the path. "Put your things down and get back here as soon as you can.“ His imperious tone annoyed Dean, but he remained silent. If he messed with the leader’s son too much, it certainly wouldn’t meet with the goodwill of the Phiconians. He had to duck to get into the cottage.

The hut consisted of one room, there was only a camp made of wood and wool, no other furniture or a washroom. Dean put his things in a corner and quickly grabbed a new tunic. Once back outside, Cas didn’t give him a glance.

Then, they followed the long, winding stone stairs. On and on, on and on, until they arrived at the assembly point. Immediately they found themselves in the middle of the village bustle. From every corner, Dean heard the loud, characteristic pounding sound as the hammer struck the metal. He inhaled the smells of freshly baked bread, spicy stews and fruit creations. His stomach grumbled, but there was no time to eat now.

Hopefully there would be a meal at the feast. In any case, Dean was amazed that one did barely notice at all that the village was afflicted by a plague. Everything was going on as usual. The isolation camps had to be working. Dean shook his head.

With a fixed gaze, Cas continued walking toward the creek. Dean was glad about it because he really wanted to wash himself.

The fact that Cas came into the villagers‘ field of vision on the way obviously interested him little. The blacksmith eyed Cas grimly, and the baker’s wife immediately closed the door at the sight of him. What was going on here?

Finally, they reached the river. Cas sighed and removed his frigging clothes. All of them. It all happened so fast that Dean was able to turn around just in the nick of time.

"Can’t you give me a heads up?“ He felt flustered at the thought of Cas standing right beside him – naked.

"I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. I am merely standing here with no clothes on.“  
Cas washed thoroughly, ignoring the whistling of several younglings near them. Dean also cleaned his body, glad fo finally remove all the dust, while trying to be a little more discreet about it.

"Doesn’t that bother you at all? I can drive them away if you like.“ Dean did have manners.  
"Let them stare and feast on my sight. We have more pressing problems.“

"You’re a real fun bag, you know that?“ In response, Cas just clicked his tongue and didn’t say anything else. "There, you can turn around again, I’m done.“ Again in silence, they started walking back to the center. They walked past a building.  
"This is orrhin - the chief’s residence.“

"So this is where you live?“ Dean could not suppress his admiration.  
"No, the seat is reserved only for the real family members. I have my own domicile.“ That settled the issue for him, but Dean’s curiosity pushed its way back to the forefront. "And how long have you lived here?“

"Dean, let me get one thing straight. I’m keeping you company tonight because my- Alastair told me to. Buy I will not chitchat. Do you understand me?“

"Capiche. You seem to do well without friends. No wonder everyone avoids you when you talk to them like that. I was just trying to get to know you better.“

At his last words, Castiel’s features had slipped, almost like in the forest. His stony facade was crumbling. Cas leapt at him nimbly like a predatory cat, causing him to recoil in fright. He barely managed to break a fall to the ground. An angry growl escaped his mouth.

"What do you want to know about me? Just a few months ago, I could have effortlessly described my last name days down to the smallest detail. Now I hardly know what I have experienced in the last year. And yes, I am aware that I am suspect to many people here. Maybe I will never really belong. I don’t need to be reminded of that by YOU.“

Filled with horror, Cas backed away from him.

"Why am I even telling you this? Please don’t tell anyone. Do you hear me?“ His eyes were a mixture of vulnerability and threat. Dean didn’t know how, but he had rattled the usually controlled Castiel. Quickly, he launched into a response. "Don’t worry, I won’t let on that you’re not always the compliant puppet. By the way, I still vividly remember the knife at my throat, so we can skip that part.“

"Even better,“ Cas said, sounding cheerful. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. What the heck - cheerful?

"You’re quite a strange person,“ Dean grumbled, which his companion acknowledged with a laugh. "All day you look like you’ve had your bow stolen. And you laugh at that. Are you for real, Cas?“ This guy was incredible. Incredibly fascinating and attractive, Dean thought, startled by this realization at the same moment.

They had reached the village square. Preparations were in full swing. On this topic, Cas suddenly became more talkative. Possibly this was a subject on which he could and would open up a bit. Or perhaps he knew that he had the attention of many residents here - perhaps he was just doing what his father had told him to do.

"At the time of the autumn slumber and the spring awakening, there is a celebration in honor of our deities Naatros and Umunda, respectively.“

Cas pointed to two large statues in the center of the village square. A colossus with armor, huge shield and a sword he had stretched in the air. Next to it was a woman in camouflage, waiting to shoot her arrow "Naatros was the brave warrior, Umunda the beautiful hunting sovereign,“ Cas confirmed his observations.

Then, he talked about the feast in general. Everyone gathered for one reason, all paying homage to their gods. There were traditional dances and songs, and many residents took the sacrificial feast as an opportunity to procreate. Several times and with different partners. Despite his claim that he was not interested in marriage, Castiel blushed a little at these remarks.

"Above all, I always enjoy the atmosphere and try to imagine earlier times. Without tyrannies, without wars.“ Often enough, Dean cherished such thoughts, too. He rarely succeeded in imagining such a world, and when he did, he only scratched the surface.

Soon the feast was in full swing. As soon as the sun had fully set, the elder Lhumi told the legend of Naatros and Umunda, who walked in earthly Taleria. "Many hundreds of moons ago, before Phiconiaism, the autocracy of our race, at that time when Taleria was still divided into completely independent settlements, there was an extraordinary man and woman.

They grew up in completely different circumstances, he as a servant, she as the princess of the tribe. They almost never greeted each other, only once did their eyes meet at the huge wooden statue in the middle of the village square, smiling silently at each other, forgetting for a moment their status constraints.

One day the princess had a drastic quarrel with her father, the ruler of the tribe. She did not agree with his notions and ways of ruling anymore. She rebelled against him, and finally, she felt free from her father’s restrictions and rules. Carelessly, she ran away and wandered aimlessly through the woods. In her rage, she ignored the crunching and rattling - an endlessmaw had approached her.“

At this point, all the listeners took a deep breath and, spellbound, moved even closer to the elder. With a smirk on his lips, Lhumi continued:

"An endlessmaw, or vulvix, as you all know, is a four-legged creature of the forest. It is at home in the most overgrown and almost unexplored areas, but its hunt takes it everywhere. Its tail strikes harder and deadlier than any morning star.

This vulvix was already old and therefore even more dangerous. The lower part of its bulky and powerful body was covered with fur, while the upper part consisted only of solid poison-green and ruby-red scales. No weapon could easily penetrate this armor. However, the most feared was and is the maw of this monster. For five rows of teeth, the foremost four of which are as large and sharp as daggers, form the entrance to the large and infinitely deep mouth. Thus, endlessmaws devour everything they felt like.

And now, yes now, the vulvix had the princess in its sights. She was its next prey, was to be its next feast. The princess stood exactly opposite the vulvix. She did not tremble, but shone with indescribable beauty and grace even at this moment of death. Then both she and the beast were distracted by a loud howl.

The servant Rissran came on his silver fox and stabbed the endlessmaw without a second of hesitation. Thus, the challenge of the gods was overcome after a long time. Henceforth, the princess and the servant were inseparable. Naatros and Umunda found their earthly bodies and lived in a hidden cave. So long, until their fleshly shells decomposed.“

The elder fell silent, and no sound was heard. The flickering of the fire created a devotional atmosphere. Only after a few moments of silence did the villagers return to their carnal desires.

Dean and Castiel continued to linger by the fire, staring into the flames. From time to time, Dean took a sip of the mead, which tasted delicious. An inner warmth rose in him. Cas did not touch a drop of alcohol, did not really listen to any of the songs, did not indulge in any sexual adventure.

Dean didn’t know how to act. In a strange way he enjoyed the silence, it was another peaceful moment between them – and he cherished those a lot.

The fact that Cas was not considered a full member of the village community did not change the lustful looks of some women, but especially the boys and men. Dean had quickly discovered that the Phiconians did not care by whom they got laid, on the contrary. They seemed to welcome the same-sex act in particular.

Dean had long ago admitted to himself that he also found men attractive, but had never acted on it and therefore had no experience, because his father would probably have beaten him up for it.

He winced at the thought, feeling the familiar pressure on his chest, as he always did when panic took over. He would never have admitted this in the presence of his father, especially not in view of the fact that the marriage arrangement was still on the table.

It was only about procreation; what happened afterwards was of no interest to anyone. But his father would never tolerate him actually following his heart. But here, in this village so far away, thoughts and curiosity automatically crept to the surface.

The alcohol level rose, the voices grew louder and those present fell over each other full of excitement. Again and again, one of the candidates came up to them and made more than explicit innuendos in Cas’s direction. But Cas did not want to surrender to these advances, always just shook his head vehemently.

With such reactions he probably only made himself more of an outsider, orgies were apparently more or less standard here. The whole time Dean did not know whether he was unwanted here. Unwanted by Cas.

The feeling was all too familiar to him, he knew this urge to flee because he didn’t want to feel like a burden, like someone too weak to be even taken into serious consideration. Too impulsive. Too acute. Too broken.

Like a shattered shell found at the shore, but quickly thrown into the sea again because it was missing the treasure.

For a change, however, Cas didn’t seem to want to get rid of him, he accepted his presence.

The drumming and shouting in the background grew louder and louder, and Dean rose to get another drink. He cleared his throat. "You want a drink, too?“ He already knew the answer, so he wasn’t surprised by Castiel’s denial.

He went to one of the concession stands and had to overcome a few hurdles along the way. Intertwined bodies and kissing Phiconians were scattered all over the floor.

Most of them were completely naked, on some Dean recognized welts and scratches that must have occured in the heat of passion. This was not at all his world, the orgies and casual sex, and yet he was fascinated by the licentiousness of the usually so aloof Phiconians.

He immediately fetched two cups of mead, in case Castiel wanted one after all, and trudged back to their place. The spot was not directly visible, as it was hidden between some trees. Cas was sitting on the wooden bench, Dean could only make out his head, but he could see from a distance that something was wrong.

As Castiel looked downright apathetic, Dean’s senses were instantly heightened. He ran the last few feet, leaping over the sex couples as he went. By now, Cas was no longer alone; a man who had to be a few years older than himself was sitting dangerously close beside him. "Got your drink, Cas,“ Dean called out loudly, fervently hoping that would drive the man away - to no avail.

Instead, the guy put his hand on Castiel’s legs, his fingers apparently about to caress his thighs. Meanwhile, Cas seemed frozen, not moving. Something wasn’t right here. The Cas he knew would have cut off all the man’s limbs long ago.

But Cas looked as if he didn’t notice the man at all, as if what was going on in his head was even more threatening, even more frightening.

What was he thinking about?

Briefly, he went over his options in his head. He could ask the man politely to leave, or he could tackle him roughly, hoping that the resulting fight would not attract too much attention. His decision was taken from him, as the man was exceedingly drunk. "You want in on this, kid? I wasn’t prepared for a three-way, but I’m sure that can be arranged.“

If the situation hadn’t been so damn serious, Dean probably would have laughed out loud. He couldn’t risk incurring the wrath of the residents, but he couldn’t leave Cas to his fate either. What was wrong with Cas? Dean silently and as surreptitiously as possible indicated to him that he should show some sort of emotion. "I think it is a wise decision for you to leave now. He doesn’t want to fuck you, and you should accept that.“

The man didn’t respond at all to his words, and Cas just looked at him. Dean’s heart contracted in pain. "In the name of Uisca. The hard way, then,“ he rumbled, yanking the man’s arm rudely. But this action flipped a switch in the intruder. He yelled angrily and shook Dean off so hard that he fell backwards. Without the influence of alcohol, Dean’s steadfastness would have been better.

No sooner had he reached the scene again than he was confronted with a sickening picture. The man had pulled Cas onto his lap. Why didn’t he fight back?

"All right, no more friendly overtures,“ Dean growled. With a practiced grip, he pulled Cas away from the man and gently shoved him into the bushes. Then he rammed his boot into the drunk’s midriff with a firm kick and followed it up with another relentless kick to his soft parts.

First Dean heard a shout of protest and then, moments later, a loud snore. He shook his head, still incredibly angry. What madness. Shaking his head, he hurried to the bushes where he had pushed Cas. He was sitting on the ground, having awakened from his stupor.

"Were you just going to endure that? Let it happen? That could have just ended badly.“ In his eyes, he saw an expression he couldn’t define. But then Cas eyed him just as disparagingly as usual.

"I‘ll be content when you finally leave,“ he replied reproachfully.  
"Wow, you’re welcome.“ Only at the last moment did Dean see that Cas’s whole body was shaking.  
When Dean was completely overwhelmed by a situation, he also reacted defiantly or too carelessly - so he could understand Castiel’s behavior.

He approached Cas cautiously, careful not to make any hasty movements or loud noises.

"Castiel,“ Dean addressed him, but Cas didn’t respond at all, instead, he fixated his eyes on some point in the forest. Sighing, Dean crouched down, propped his right arm on his leg, and looked at the Phiconian.  
"Cas,“ he murmured a little more softly now.

At last, Cas lifted his gaze, and Dean swallowed as he saw his moist eyes. Not only had he obviously been taken by the situation, he seemed troubled in general, perhaps finally transporting to the outside what had settled inside him.  
"You-you should vanish from here.“

Castiel snorted and looked at him more or less indignantly. "You know I cannot simply leave my people.“  
"First: Why the heck not? You should definitely leave these frigging assholes. They- I dunno, they don’t deserve you, man. Anyway, that’s not what I meant. “ Dean huffed and shook his head to convey his next sentence with as much sincerity as he could.  
"I think you should go to the place.“

Castiel gave him a questioning look. "Your favorite spot, the green place,“ Dean added quietly, as a shiver ran down his spine at the memory of Castiel’s tale. "You’re right,“ Cas said as sincerely as if Dean had just given him a completely new insight. Yet it had made perfect sense to Dean that Castiel could probably only find peace there right now.

"I don’t want to fight anymore,“ Cas said after an eternity. Fight what? Savage creatures? His obvious disgust regarding his peoples‘ behavior? His hidden, yet existing gentler sides? Himself? Dean? Maybe all of them at once or none at all?

Dean needed to know, but Cas didn’t talk further on that matter. He just waited - for what? His response apparently.  
"Then don’t.“  
"I’d like that. For tonight.“  
With that, Castiel fell silent again, eyeing him urgently, as if he also wanted to tear Dean’s inner fight away like a bandage that had grown into an open wound.

Suddenly, Castiel’s entire posture changed: his shoulders tightened, determination entered his gaze, and his arms and legs were steady. Castiel took a deep breath and a few moments later was standing next to Dean. Briefly, he looked toward the village square, where music and loud voices could still be heard.

"Great. Um, good ni-," Dean interposed, at the same moment Castiel turned his head back and asked, "Are you coming?“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please let me know what you think :)
> 
> Next chapter: Cas and Dean go to Castiel's place of hope (the green spot). Honesty, bonding and softness ensue. 
> 
> The next chapter will be online tomorrow!


	11. The place of hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas spend the rest of the feast at Castiel's favorite spot, the place of hope. They talk more sincerely and have a bonding moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just needed them to talk more honestly with each other - and yes, I couldn't help it, had to include some softness. :)

**Dean**

Dean gulped, quite certainly staring at Castiel with his mouth wide open. Had he misheard that? Had his ears maybe taken some kind of damage?  
“Excuse me?“ he asked.

Castiel shrugged his shoulders, and gave him a little smile, barely noticeable, but Dean’s heartbeat fastened immediately. How did he do that?  
“I thought you might want to see the spot I told you about. Furthermore, you do look like you could use some quiet too if you don’t mind me saying so.“

Dean felt at a loss for words. How were they so normal with each other right now? Castiel had been fucking intimidating in the beginning, he still was – but here, he was different. Not worse, just different.

Dean’s arguably very active and imaginative mind provided him with too many questions all at once. Why was Castiel so adorable and open at this very moment? And why did he, on top of that, look like a fucking snack – like the most delicious pie – now out of all times? Smiling so sweetly? After this shit Castiel had just experienced? He swallowed, and then his mouth created a noise which sounded like a chuckle coming from a cow.

“Okey-dokey,“ Dean said, laughing even though his excitement was choking his throat.

Castiel’s favorite place was exactly as he had described it. Dean found that Cas had an amazing talent for making a real place come to life in the world of imagination. Of course, he saw much less than he would have in the sun, but he saw enough and felt everything. Without many words, they sat down - and oh yes, the forest floor was damn pillowy, indeed. Maybe it really was meant to be impossible to ever stand up again.

In the starlight, Dean recognized Castiel’s features, could see the latter’s prominent cheekbones, his objectively beautiful lips, his forehead, now not wrinkled. A few tears ran down Cas’s cheeks, which Dean took as a positive sign. Castiel showed his emotions more openly, and Dean liked it. Damn right, he did. And Castiel had to know this, he decided.

“You don’t have to act this way all the time, ya know.“  
“What do you mean?“ Cas looked fragile, his whole face screaming pain and despair. Dean bit his lips, afraid to say something snarky.

“Well, I know you’re a badass guy, but you’re also a person. You don’t always have to be this tough hunter, almost soldier, who doesn’t let his insides shine out.“

“Thank you – and for earlier,“ Cas murmured, obviously not expecting this kind of response from him. Well, Dean wasn’t that bad, he just didn’t want to be all sensitive and emotional with every random person. He never was actually – except for the moments he was all alone.

“You misunderstand me, Dean, very often. Can I tell you another thing about me if you promise me not to tell my people?“  
“Sure,“ Dean said, not understanding what was going on here.

“For your information,“ Castiel continued, and Dean felt his gaze on him, even though they were sitting here almost in the dark.

“I am not a cold-hearted soldier or whatever you might consider me. I have questions. I have doubts,“ Castiel admitted. His breathing was more frantic than usual, as if he was afraid someone might steal the words off his tongue and hide them deep inside him again. Castiel took a deep breath, and Dean literally felt how much effort it cost him to say the next words aloud.

“I don’t like the way Alastair rules our village, I don’t like how he treats me. I don’t like the harshness of this life, and I don’t identify with those gods. I don’t like how everyone in this village despises me, and I hate that I feel lost. That I feel like a huge part of me is missing. Apparently, another shape of me exists, apparently there are more qualities to me I had forgotten about. Or rather I was forced to forget.“

What did he mean by that? Dean wanted to know more, wanted him to explain better, hence Dean would understand, but Castiel already continued talking again.

“I don’t like that I know exactly what is the right thing to do, while the wrong thing is so much easier to obtain. And what I might hate the most about this whole ordeal is, that you infuriating, frustrating man, who provokes me on every possible occasion, made me overthink my so-called life more thoroughly than I have ever deemed before. And I’m only beginning to grasp this fact. But yes, I do have doubts.“

Oh. Shit, shit, shit. Nobody had ever told him something so meaningful concerning his person. Dean felt like sobbing, and he wanted to grab Castiel and- At the same time, he wanted to get out of here because this revelation was so not what he had expected to ever hear, let alone today.

At last, Cas chuckled, and god, Dean really had a weak spot for this single, little noise. It was insane – Dean was. “On the topic of pretending. You do realize the same is true for you, Dean, don’t you?“ Castiel asked into the wondrous silence that filled the place.

Dean laughed quietly. “I suppose you’re right.“ He didn’t know what was going on, but somehow the connection between them had deepened.

Yes, he kind of liked Cas by now, he liked him. In the whirl of his strange feelings, yes endorphins, he wiped the damn tears from Castiel’s face with his thumb and stroked his cheek reverently. As if he had burned himself, Dean flinched back.  
“Sorry. Know you don’t like touching.“

“That’s not true,“ Cas objected, whereupon Dean frowned.  
“No, no, no, pal, my damn good memory reminds me you specifically told me not to touch you.“  
“Yes.“  
“So – logic?“

“I can’t explain my reasons right now, but I assure you I don’t abhor your touches.“ Then, Cas whisphered, almost inaudible, "On the contrary." which kinda caused a fluttering sensation in Dean's stomach.  
“Right,“ Dean huffed. “So, this was kinda bad back there. You- Are you a hugger?“  
“No, most definitely not. But I could use a hug nonetheless.“

And suddenly Dean laughed out loud, had to laugh so hard that his eyes watered. He slapped his thighs and fell into a veritable fit of laughter, looking over and over again at Cas and feeling warmth.

At first Cas eyed him with skepticism, until at some point he smiled slightly. The next day, they would probably start up again, pretending that this moment had never happened. De facto, they would part ways the next day.  
All this time Dean had longed for exactly that, and now this thought made him incredibly sad. But he certainly wouldn’t bring it up to Cas, that was ridiculous.

“Okay,“ Dean said once he had regained his composure. “C’mere.“ Then he carefully put his arms around Cas, allowing himself to breathe in the incredible, indeed alluring, scent of the other. Again, his entire body tingled, and he felt so warm and - there?

For the first moment, Cas just sat there as stiff as a statue, until his posture relaxed, and he let himself sink into the embrace. Dean heard his quickening breath, and smelled it so intensely that he didn’t notice anything else. Now he felt Cas‘s arms around his waist, felt his hands gently stroking his lower back. Then the hands moved higher, soon feeling all over his back, and damn it, Dean had never experienced such a stirring embrace.

He threw all resolutions overboard, hugged Cas even tighter, pulling him so close to him that their thighs touched. Cas sighed softly, making the most truly engaging noises that existed in all of Silvagion, no Taleria. Dean didn’t know what had gotten into them both all of a sudden, if the feast had triggered something in them as well that made them cross their inhibitions and disregard their possible aversion, and he didn’t care.

Never before in his life had anyone hugged him like this, and certainly not for so long, and his heart skipped a beat. And he was breathing, breathing so deeply and feeling like he’d never breathed better. And he was scared, scared because it felt so good, until suddenly he felt like crying because there would never be more than this moment between them. Because it was all too complicated. Because he was too broken.

Growling, he pulled Cas even closer to him, humming deeper in his throat because he needed to feel. And then Cas understood what he wanted, half-climbed onto his lap, and oh crap, Dean was doomed. The closeness did him so good, so incredibly good.

For a brief moment he hated himself for how much he craved those touches, how much he liked sitting here entwined with Cas of all people, right now, and then he didn’t care. Because he felt warm and good and cherished. And he breathed in and out. Over and over again. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

Although he could not see the green of the trees in the darkness, he felt hope. He sensed Cas, and for that moment he didn’t want to think of anything else. And so they sat there, he didn’t know how long, until finally they were lying side by side, staring in the dark toward the treetops. They didn’t talk, not at all, but Dean still received so much. After they walked back, Castiel just gave him a quick nod, but this time without the distance in his gaze.

The next morning, the village was deserted. Dean made his way to the orrhin, from where the guards would take him to the tunnel of the gods. He approached the large reception hall, whose door was only ajar. Loud voices drifted outside. He immediately recognized the voice of Alastair.

“Be that as it may. Castiel, your brothers have discovered a new inhabited cave. I want you to go there with them later and take care of the inhabitants.“ At these words, he leaned even closer to the door. What were they talking about here?

“Yes, my lord. Anything else?“  
“Indeed. I am concerned about the red zone. Master Igull will talk to you about it in private tonight.“  
“I feel the same way. If we don’t find a solution as soon as possible, we’ll soon have other concerns entirely other than minor disputes within the village community.“

Now the time had come for Dean to make his presence felt. Noisily he approached the hall again and deliberately bumped into a vase. The clang silenced the voices. A few seconds later Castiel came outside, nodded briefly at Dean, and buckled his bow tighter. More confident than he felt, he entered the room.

“Dean!“, Alastair greeted him immediately. “I hope you enjoyed the feast.“  
“It was enlightening and exciting,“ Dean replied politely, tugging his clothes into place. He was lucky the situation hadn’t escalated. “Fine, fine. Guards, take our guest back to the Hall of Gods. We’ll be right behind you.“

***  
“I’m done,“ Dean shouted, immediately interrupting everyone’s conversation. “Good,“ the chief replied. “Bring me the potion.“ Somewhat irritated, Dean grabbed the cauldron. Strange people. He didn’t think much of the customs of the Phiconians, that much he knew after this brief sojourn. Fortunately, this one would soon come to an end. “The potion should rest until tonight, then it can be used.“

“Excellent. I thank you and also your Master Gilbat for the support. But where are my manners?“ He clapped his hands reverently.  
“Now you will still get the meal and lodging you deserve.“ Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Only now did he realize how drained he was, how rubbery his limbs felt after the night in the hut.

He would probably fall asleep as soon as he laid down. The chief nodded in satisfaction and a laugh spread across his face.

“Seize him,“ his wife shouted suddenly, and Dean awoke from his trance. Alastair’s laugh had not been a warm one, but an icy one. If only he had realized that just now. Before he could run away, the guards grabbed him violently by the arms. More guards put shackles on him and led him away.

“You asshole. You fucking betrayed me,“ Dean hissed as they ran past Cas. Castiel just looked at him with blank eyes and walked away in the other direction. And Dean hated himself for crying at this absurd moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the cliffhanger!!! Don't worry, everything will be resolved. Dean and Cas will be reunited very soon. We'll also get another glimpse at Cas' POV in chapter 13. From now on, many things will happen, so I'm kinda excited for that. :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)
> 
> Next chapter will be online at the weekend!


	12. The importance of being a water roamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > "We’re not barbarians, Dean,“ Castiel rebuked him, again using that lecturing tone of voice with which he had too often driven Dean up the wall. The gravelly voice which had also caused the most delicious shivers on his whole body.
>> 
>> "If you give Alastair the information he wants, you may get to spend the rest of your life here in a more pleasant cell.“
>> 
>> Castiel paced the cell and tossed him a cozy blanket. Vehemently, Dean ignored the fact that his heart beat faster at this small gesture, surely not ordered by Alastair.

**Dean**

Dean was taken to a cell underground. The corridors were dark, with only scattered candles bringing some light to their path. Every few seconds he heard a grunt, which he eventually identified as the laughter of a guard. Now he was a prisoner, but he had not been forbidden to speak.

"I ate one of your relatives with relish yesterday, you know,“ he flattened. Of course, he was on thin ice; if they had wanted to kill him, they probably would have done it long ago. For this reason, he wanted to at least lift his spirits a little.  
"Shut up or get punched!“

There they had apparently assigned the biggest brain from Taleria to guard him. "Shut up, punch or booze - sounds like a great drinking game, don’t you think?“ You’d better curb your tongue, his reason admonished him. What was wrong with him? Just when it was most dangerous, he tended to get reckless and brash.

Just because it had turned out so well with Grater, for example, didn’t mean that he was lucky every time. They continued to shuffle through the corridors, and Dean wondered how deep into the dungeons they were actually going to take him. Since he expected to be tortured and interrogated, he was surprised that his adversaries would want to take such long routes.

"I gotta tell ya, Piggy, you and I are going to be friends for life. We’re going to make ourselves so comfortable down here. I’m looking forward to the decor.“ It had to be the fear that made him go insane here.

It smelled mustier with every step. "Is it you, or are there all these decomposed bodies lying around?“ Dean launched into his next daring question.

"I notice you’re as much of a joker as ever, Dean.“ The only good thing about Castiel’s presence was that his smell of honey and forest somewhat masked the corpse stench. The fact that he was so calm about the subject of corpses should have made him wonder. "You’re just what I need.“  
"We’re not going to have a long conversation here,“ he continued, unperturbed. "I have come here merely to inspect the proper transfer of your person. Mokz, show him to his cell.“

Instead of mocking that insane name, Dean took a deep breath and focused on his current task: finding an escape route. The giant shoved him into his cell, and Dean landed in the middle of a puddle of dirt.

Behind him, Castiel made various hissing sounds; they had to be sounds from the Phiconian language. Afterwards Castiel attached a luminous torch to the ceiling, he would not have to dwell here in absolute darkness.

"And now? Are you going to leave me here to die, or am I going to be the centerpiece of one of your sacrificial feasts someday?“ By now, he had crawled out of the puddle and hoisted himself onto the meager night’s bed.

"We’re not barbarians, Dean,“ Castiel rebuked him, again using that lecturing tone of voice with which he had too often driven Dean up the wall. The gravelly voice which had also caused the most delicious shivers on his whole body.

"If you give Alastair the information he wants, you may get to spend the rest of your life here in a more pleasant cell.“

Castiel paced the cell and tossed him a cozy blanket. Vehemently, Dean ignored the fact that his heart beat faster at this small gesture, surely not ordered by Alastair.

"Sounds dreamy,“ Dean returned. "With the caveat that I have absolutely no information that could be of use to you. Not the slightest clue what you want from me. You got your potion from me, and it will last for weeks, if not months. So what more do you want?“

"Your imprisonment has nothing directly to do with the plague. Alastair has other motives.“  
"I’m insanely anxious to know the backstory,“ Dean fluted, throwing himself on his back.

"Can’t you be serious for once?“ Castiel hissed, looking bewildered. He fixated a wall, lost in thought. Before, that would have stimulated Dean’s curiosity, would have made him want to investigate, but now everything was different.

Why was everything suddenly so much shittier than ever before? He wished he hadn’t let Castiel get so close. But it had kinda happened on its own in the end, hadn’t it? Still, Dean hated himself for believing there was actually some kind of genuine trust between them.

Castiel had regained his composure. "If I were you, I’d be careful what I said. It might be the last thing you say.“

"Even if it were. At least I’d die with a smile on my face, Ice Princess.“ Dean grinned at him, enjoying the triumph of having upset him for a moment.

In fact, he was a little hurt that he had been so wrong about Cas. He had really felt that there had been something between them, that despite their discussions, they had been about to form some kind of bond. Damn Cas for upsetting him like that. That Castiel had made him open up.

Moreover, his anxiety was growing by the minute, but he couldn’t let it show. He had to somehow manage to tease an escape out of them with his banal words.

"You will lose your laughter,“ Castiel spoke and left the cell again. "I will now fetch our leader. Prepare for the first interrogation. Mokz, make him clean himself up, by force if necessary. We don’t want him to face our master dressed like that. But remember, he is a water roamer. So don’t let him linger too long in the water, after all, we don’t want him to feel at home here, we want him to come out with the language.“

"Don’t worry, honey, I’m guaranteed to always feel uncomfortable in this hole. You really should work on the equipment and service.“

"Don’t waste your strength on unnecessary talk. No one can hear you down here, Dean. So long.“ It sounded more like, "One more wrong word, and I’ll have to inflict pain on you.“

Frustrated, Dean pounded on the wall. He pounded and pounded because he wanted to use it to drown out his fucking heart that was beating way too fast. Why the hell did he have to like Castiel?

"Hush,“ Mokz panted.  
"Or punches?“ Dean whispered back, actually eliciting a gleeful grunt from the trusty guard. "Oh dear, if this is what my conversations look like all day long, I’m going to get stultified sooner or later.“

Soon, he lost the desire to continue throwing meaningless comments into the room. Restlessly, he turned from one side to the other and could not fall asleep. In the distance, he heard a loud squeaking and creaking.

At some point, he must have fallen asleep because suddenly Alastair was standing in front of him.

"Good morning, my friend,“ the man with the Mohawk greeted him unceremoniously.  
"With respect, I don’t lock my friends in a stinking cell, you hypocrite.“

"Don’t push my patience. I can’t kill you just yet, but I can certainly remove a few limbs.“ The leader looked at him from cold eyes.

"We can make this really short. Tell me what you know.“ Dean frowned, not knowing at all what his counterpart was talking about.

"You’d have to allow a couple of years, though; in a couple of hours I can probably only give you bits and pieces of what I know. Why don’t you invite Mokz as well, I’m sure a little education won’t hurt him.“

"Boy, you heard me. I will not tolerate disobedience. You will now tell me all about your grandfather.“ What was he getting at? Now Dean was tongue-tied for the first time that day. Then he tried to answer as sincerely as possible.

"He was a warm-hearted man, one of the best water roamers there was in the last century. He had an incredible range of skills, was asked for advice by people of all lands. And he could captivate whole crowds with his stories.“ At the same moment that he uttered these words, nostalgia for his grandfather spread.

"I don’t need sentimentalism either.“ Alastair tugged on Dean’s leg and twisted it to the right in one neat motion.

Tears welled up in Dean’s eyes. "Ow, what are you doing? I don’t understand what else to tell you about him.“

"You’re his grandson. The one he mentioned in his will. We need to know what was meant by his words.“

"Now please don’t tell me that I’m the chosen one from any of your prophecies and that’s why you have to sacrifice me or any of that bullshit.“

"No, certainly not. You are certainly not worthy of the role of our chosen one. But you must have access to a piece of information your grandfather left behind shortly before his death. It leads to a key for which we would receive a generous reward and certainly a greater sphere of power.“

Dean thought feverishly, but could not for the life of him recall any such information. "I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. There must be some confusion here. If my grandfather detested anything, it was political entanglements.“ That wasn’t really true, but Alastair didn’t need to know about that. "From there, you’ll have to look for another person.“

"We’re looking for Nalel’s grandson, and apparently that’s you. You live in the Elighn at Lake Illen, don’t you? Stop lying to me, or you will regret it.“

"Yes, that is my home, I still don’t know the information you are looking for.“  
"We’ll get you to talk yet. Castiel has found your pallusan and will kill it - if necessary.“ Dean drew in a sharp breath.

Could Castiel have captured Ciwu? That would be a disaster; it just couldn’t be. He couldn’t kill him, Castiel knew how much he meant to Dean. Yeah, right, because Castiel cared about his feelings too, Dean thought bitterly.

"So think very carefully about whether it’s advisable to continue being so insolent to me.“

"All right,“ Dean muttered softly. "If you let me back home, I’ll get you the information you want. I’ll search everything until I find it. Just please leave my family and me alone.“

"We figured you would answer something like this. We’ll escort you back to Gurgling Steep tomorrow with three guards. In the meantime, get some sleep. And don’t try any foolish escapes, or your pet will die.“

A solution had to be found, and as quickly as possible. Impossibly, he could return home this way. Neither would he be able to find the information, nor could anything happen to his loved ones. Hatred rose in Dean. How had he gotten into this mess?

No matter what path he chose now, he knew his old life was passé. Even if his grandfather hadn’t left him this unspeakable secret, he could no longer deny the dangers. Gurgling Steep was now also under the queen’s radar, as threatened as any region in the country.

How could he ever think otherwise? For so long he had convinced himself that he would continue to lead his life as before. That no special events would be able to interrupt his everyday life. How stupid he had been! A shock gripped the whole country, and he finally had to leave his passive attitude.

If he was capable of putting a stop to the queen’s madness, he would do just that. All of a sudden, Dean possessed a clarity that he had never experienced in himself before. Now he had a fixed task: he had to protect his family - and make sure that the queen never received his grandfather’s inheritance.

A few hours later, there was a rattle at the door. "Dean?“ he heard a deep voice. "You’re a water roamer, aren’t you?“  
"Who are you?“ asked Dean, upset. "Make yourself known.“  
"Answer the question, boy,“ the voice replied unapologetically.

"Yes, I’m a water roamer and proud of it. But what are you going to do with this information now?“ He waited and waited and waited, but no more answers followed. Had he dreamed this? No, it had been real, the door still shaking slightly.

Mokz snored to himself, so who had come here especially to ask him that? And then his thoughts shone brighter than a riodophis plant at night. He was a water roamer, and there was a long water pipe above him. Consequently, all he had to do was get in there and from there a way would be found.

He searched the cell, just had to figure out how to get behind the walls. They were made of solid stone and could not be breached without radiate force. He felt everything, scratching and looking for brittle spots. At some point his hands were completely sore and blood dripped onto the floor. He still had not found an exit. Soon it would be day, it was high time for a solution.

His hands did not stop bleeding. As if in a frenzy, he licked over the wounds and hoped that the saliva would stop the bleeding. In addition, the crawling around had used up his last energy reserves. He hadn’t eaten, let alone drunk, since the feast and was now in danger of collapsing.

Dean lay down on his back and sorted out his thoughts. His ears rushed and his head ached as it rarely had before. Down here, the air was thin and contained little oxygen. It couldn’t be much longer before he passed out - he had to get out of here! Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a spot that seemed minimally brighter than the rest of the room’s lining.

Suddenly, Dean was fit again as he had not been for days. The strange man was indeed his salvation. Quietly, he rose from the floor so as not to wake Mokz. Next he dragged his cot halfway across the room and maneuvered it far to the left. Wobbling, he climbed onto the cot and held onto a stone ledge on the side.

Without thinking, he leaped into the air and pulled himself onto the small platform. He tore his cotton shirt from his torso and in a few movements braided a makeshift rope from it. One end he tied around his waist, the other he fastened to the top of the cot. Hopefully it will hold, he thought.

He stood upright and stretched in the direction of the targeted spot. Only his left foot was still on the stone slab. Dean stretched even higher and finally he was close enough. His tongue shot out and just missed its target.

After three more tries, he finally hit the spot. The familiar sound rang out softly, almost silently. His tongue lingered on the hovisiv, finally offering him the security he needed. He jumped, and he was transported upward as if by a rubber. He had never tried that before at such a height either. Done!

He changed to his swimming form and put the last of his strength into gliding through the tunnel. He would have liked to know who he had to thank for this help. Bobby, perhaps? His whereabouts were known to him, he was not far away, probably rumors had come to his ears during his forays. For a while Dean let himself drift and then followed the first fork. Would he even find the exit in time before he ran out of air?

***********

**Crowley**

  
Shaking his head, Crowley lowered the staff. Moss and leaves that had once formed the statue’s crown glowed out and crumbled to ash. He patted his cloak, wrinkling his nose at the bloodstains and holes. As soon as he was back in the capital, he would see the tailor. He was in dire need of new cloaks and pants anyway, with so many banquets and meetings lined up at the moment.

One more time he swung the staff back and forth. "Aradno hilsa,“ he breathed the formula, and it clanged. On the ground lay chunks of stone that had once been the torso of the goddess. Horrified cries went through the crowd, someone was crying. Crowley clicked his tongue and waited.

There - finally. Silence lay over the village square, just as he had intended. Slowly, he lifted his gaze, directing his attention to the pack before him. "So much for that.“ No one dared to say a word in response to his vague statement. They were afraid. This realization sent endorphins through his battered body. The blood spell still gnawed at his strength.

But he would rack his brains over that after this troublesome, if unavoidable, affair. Where was the chief? Surely the news of his arrival had long since reached him. If he estimated the leader correctly, he would greet Crowley with a confident appearance. The inhabitants eyed him with a mixture of suspicion and fear.

Just then, a satisfied smile spread on his lips when he read contempt in the features of an elderly gentleman. At least he had courage, that impressed him. From then on, his gaze was only on the old man.

Despite his weakened condition, Crowley had to make an example. The man held out longer than most persons and beings Crowley encountered. Finally, the man whimpered indignantly, folding his hands over his ears. "Please, have mercy,“ the Phiconian cried at the top of his lungs.

Crowley made no move to murmur, the mental horror images never failing to have their effect. "Take me to your chief.“ His voice brooked no argument. A clearing of the throat sounded from the back rows.

"There is no need, my lord. I am here.“ Emerging then was Alastair, making his way between the visibly frightened residents. "Good, that will save us all time.“ Disgusted, he looked at the village square, seeing mead cups, pants left behind, colorful garlands of cloth.

They all testified to the festivities that had taken place here. "Is there anywhere around here with less hustle and bustle?“ Alastair nodded and led him to a large house where he had been during his last stay. In a meeting room of sorts, Alastair immediately began to speak. "Was that really necessary? You sure gave people a scare.“

Crowley raised his eyebrows and smiled mockingly. "Good man, you’re lucky the village got away with a scare. You remember my last visit?“  
"How could I forget? You threatened to abandon my wife in the Thester Thicket, and drown my eldest son.“

"Save your sarcasm,“ Crowley hissed angrily at him. "I’m not here to chat with you. You are nothing but scum. You know that the old faith is no longer welcome. It is only thanks to the immeasurable kindness of our great queen that you are allowed to indulge in this outrage at all. But the speech was not about celebrating this unspeakable sacrificial feast.“

Alastair’s expression remained calm, the leader only crossed his arms in front of his chest, waiting. "Dear Crowley, you know I am grateful for everything you have done for us, for me. But the new tasks, opportunities you have made possible for us, require all our concentration.“

Clever he was, after all. Had Crowley not had to acquire acumen in his early youth, he might have fallen for the Phiconian’s flattery. "Save your breath. This is my last warning in this matter. Worship your deities, but keep any celebrations to the minimum possible. Otherwise, there will be consequences. Understand?“ The harshness silenced Alastair, and he nodded in surrender. "Excellent.“

Crowley reached into his cloak, pulling out the sealed letter he had traveled to Archery for. "The queen sends me to you with an urgent matter.“

He handed the parchment to Alastair. The truth was that he had started this journey without the knowledge of his mistress. Since a few daredevils had started new riots in Regnirion, she had been harnessed enough for the moment. He had not wanted to trouble her with this turn of events.

Apart from that, it concerned magic, a subject she was more than ill at ease with at the moment. She was eager for the all-changing spell, but the Artimagi was taking her time. "I want to see the boy,“ Crowley added.

The water roamer was invaluable to the empire, but especially to him personally. He would help Crowley explore the wonders of the past - and heal his wounds for good. Why did these scraps always steal into his thoughts unbidden? He massaged his temples, repeated the litany three times in his mind, anchoring himself in the here and now. He had a mission - a mission that allowed no distractions. A rumble escaped him.

Frowning, Alastair looked up from the letter. "What boy?“ he asked, unconcerned. Anger spread through Crowley. He hated being played for a fool. "One more foolish spell, and I’ll make good on my threats of yore.“ Alastair swallowed, seeming to give him due fear at last.

"I can’t do that right now,“ the leader then muttered.  
"What do you mean?“ Crowley growled. "Wake him up when he sleeps. Put clothes on him when he bathes his bare limbs. Drag him off the bed when he’s having fun with one of your guards.“ His words hung in the air. Alastair just looked at the floor. "Speak!“

"He fled.“ This could not be true. Holding the young water roamer captive had been the only mission that had really mattered. "How is that possible?“ Crowley cried.  
"We don’t know.“

"My patience is limited, Alastair.“ Crowley jumped up and squeezed the Phiconian’s throat. "You promised me, swore to me, that there would be no holes in the plan. Very well, then. Send men to Gurgling Steep, that is where he will return.“  
Nothing happened. Slowly Crowley was getting fed up with this simple-minded man. How had he managed to remain chief for so long? He increasingly regretted that he had helped Alastair out of a jam a few years ago.

"Now,“ he followed up angrily. Alastair told a guard the order and turned to Crowley - now considerably more meekly. "We will not fail you and our beloved queen again.“ His final thought was maturing inside him, pleasing him better by the second.

"That’s what I’m assuming. That reminds me. How are your sons and especially your ward?“ He did not receive an answer. Instead, Crowley watched in amazement as Alastair suddenly clutched his own throat and went down, gasping. He was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :) 
> 
> Next time we'll have another glimpse at Castiel's thoughts and also Dean's further escape and the consequences. :)


	13. Through the tunnels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 13. Enjoy! :)

**Castiel**

Castiel had to hurry, a guard could overpower him at any moment. Hastily, he tore open the drawers in his domicile and carelessly threw everything into a pile. Normally, he would have taken his time neatly folding and packing everything, now all that mattered to him was getting out of here.

His head was buzzing, but he couldn’t overthink. His decision was made, now there was no turning back. He had done it. After all this time, he had turned his back on his village. For good. He had ended the life of Alastair.

Now that the shackle, the spell, or whatever it should be called, had broken away from his being, he finally felt free. He remembered his real parents, finally remembered. Furthermore, his body was changing, he felt a power, a force within him. He would find Dean. They were connected in some way, they possessed a bond that had shaken up his whole existence.

And Castiel liked Dean, yes, he actually liked him. Not only did he like and respect him, he also felt something more profound and real. Something terrifying, yet thrilling, and maybe he would be able to find out. However, he would be grateful to go on this journey with Dean, no matter how their relationship developed.

Dean was a wonderful man, and Castiel would no longer shy away from showing his loyalty to him, only to him. Briefly, he considered taking his father’s flying beast, but that would only draw more attention to himself, since only the family knew the exact location.

Again, he felt the power within him. It was as if he finally understood. As if he finally knew what to do. He remembered the meeting with Dean in the forest, their first encounter. Something had to have happened there that already formed a connection between them. He needed to find out the reasons and the meaning of this encounter.

His form was changing. He felt the dragon in him, he felt the fire. And suddenly, he could hear the wings fluttering. He really had wings on his back. Castiel reached a bit to the side to touch them. They were much different from the ones real dragons had, and they felt strong, yet incredibly soft under his hands. He wanted to inspect them, but he had no time. He didn’t know what to do.

Therefore, he just closed his eyes and let his instincts take over. As soon as he was in the air, he felt liberated. He felt the wind and the speed and the sun and the wonders of Taleria. He was himself, finally himself. It was beautiful.

Thanks to flying, Castiel reached Gurgling Steep quickly. He felt so strong. The Pure Noses patrolled both north and west of him. That the queen’s elite fighters had come so far west first, and now south, did not please Castiel at all.

A clacking sounded whenever the silver-plate-studded boots touched the ground. Thieves, rebels, and simple travelers are careful to move as silently as possible with every step they take, whereas the Pure Noses were almost provocative with their appearance.

All should see who was the superior. At regular intervals they shouted the status to each other, announced news, of which Castiel himself from his position in the treetop only heard fragments. Not far from here had to be the camp from which they monitored the village and looked out for Dean. Deliberate ignorance was not in Castiel’s nature. Castiel felt uneasiness above all because of the numerous soldiers, who met him regularly.

Were they preparing an attack on the Aquai? Would there be a war in the near future that everyone had been expecting for years?

Although Castiel did not know how exactly the queen had come to power at that time, he knew that destruction and many deaths had been part of it. What secret did the queen have that her closest confidants had guarded all these years? And why did she risk her reign by kidnapping a Nuvolin? The right hand - Crowley - knew the answers to all these questions.

There was no doubt in Castiel’s mind that this cruel person developed most of the strategies and had a better overview of the situation in each district than the queen ever had. Hatred rose in him. Since his memories gradually returned, he felt emotions more intensely than ever before.

To attack Crowley and his men, he would need better equipment and reinforcements. Still, Castiel wanted to hurt him, needed to at least begin to avenge what he had done to him. His mind was made up. Soon he would sneak past the Pure Noses and infiltrate one of their camps.

He would need Dean’s support, but convincing him would require a tact Castiel didn’t have. But first he had to find out what was going on in Dean’s village. And he hoped, very much hoped, that Dean would arrive soon. Until then, it was a matter of waiting.

* * *

**Dean**  
Where was the exit? Meanwhile, Dean had been gliding through the underground corridors for a while, always following the main route. But he had to get out of here, his energy would not last much longer. That was the biggest danger of the hovisiv tunnels: If one was stuck without any energy reserves or food, survival was unlikely. Finally - his fins twitched because of a blast of fresh air, which meant the surface couldn’t be far away. He had to proceed with caution.

Should he follow the narrow fork down to the left or take the direct path up? Once again, he devoted all his concentration to moving forward. The logical conclusion was to follow the better-positioned tunnel, but his instincts told him that the left path was the right choice.

Dean closed his eyes and pushed off powerfully. His body slid away from then, adapting to the twists and turns of the track as if by itself. After seemingly endless moments, his ears boomed. That was the sign, the exit had to be close at hand. Sure enough, a bright flicker signaled to Dean that he had made it.

His tongue was full of cuts and dried out, for the redeeming opening of the invisible hatch their strength was just enough. Swaying with exhaustion, Dean pushed himself upward and swam to shore with quick strokes.

He could no longer feel his legs and urgently needed to tend to his wounds. But first he had to get his bearings. A few meters away from him, he recognized ash remains of an extinguished campfire and a few bell woods.

If these were residues from their resting place, he had just swum in the body of water where Cas had seen Ciwu. Somewhere there had to be a path that led directly home. Hopefully Ciwu was well, nothing could have happened to the little pallusan, Dean would not be able to cope with that.

What should he do now? It was time that he returned to Gurgling Steep, this order had brought him nothing but trouble. Not only was he exhausted and wounded, but he was completely on his own. His weapons and armor lay somewhere in the dungeons of Bow’s Wreath.

Only his secret leather pouch, attached to his back right thigh, had not been found. If only he had never left. Damn Phiconians, they had fooled everyone. Now they possessed a mighty healing potion, and were also after something, some information, to which he had access. What did it all mean?

His clothes were dripping and his only means of defense was his father’s jackknife. He needed food, drinkable water and at best a place to sleep, but at first he could get no further in the tunnels.

Only when his strength was replenished could he dare to glide through the tunnels again. For a moment, he weighed his options. "I have no other choice,“ he whispered to himself. With greedy gulps, he emptied the last of the water from his emergency flask, then resolutely loosened the clasp on the knife.

Unwittingly, he heard Cas in his head admonishing him to proceed with caution. Never should he have revised his original judgment of him, if it had happened even in the slightest. Not to speculate about it any further. Focus.

On his knees he crawled forward meter by meter. Now and then he found a few luri berries and even some intú bushes. He took as many of the nutritious nuts as the small bag could hold, the rest he swallowed in large quantities and without chewing.

That would suffice as a food supply for now. Worryingly, however, he could no longer get the penetrating acid taste out of his mouth. Even worse was the never-ending pulling sensation in his lower back, which told him that another slide through the tunnels was impossible for now.

Unless he found a way to thoroughly tend to his wounds. As he pondered, he continued to crawl through the overgrown bushes until he suddenly heard voices. Dean paused in his movement.

They spoke hurriedly and choppily in a foreign language, probably Phiconian. He wouldn’t get anywhere unseen like that; who knew how many comrades were still in the area. He needed a backup plan.

A few meters to the right of the soldiers, Dean spotted a wicker basket and a weathered wooden box. Under certain circumstances he could find something there. As quietly as possible, he crept up to the spot and kept casting inquiring glances at the armed men, who were probably Alastair’s guards.

At the moment the coast was clear, they were engaged in animated conversation, goading each other with their tales. Just before reaching his destination, Dean spotted a bristle snake whose bite, while not venomous, was extremely painful. "Keep crawling,“ Dean inwardly cheered it on.

Finally, the animal heeded his silent plea and moved away. The basket and wooden box were now within reach. Ducked, Dean searched the supplies, first finding beer and water bottles, leftover bread, and jerky. The meat he immediately buried in his pants pockets, and then rummaged further.

In the wooden box waited his salvation - a wound paste, a woolen bag for transport and a small but fully functional dagger. In the far corner lay four quni coins, a meager haul, but at least Dean could buy a full meal with them.

He wiped the blood-stained dagger briefly on the moss and attached the weapon to his pants, putting the other items in the wool pouch. Now it was necessary to quickly find a hiding place for the wound care, then he had to continue his journey. He would have no trouble finding the way back via the paths Cas and him had taken; the route was firmly burned into his memory.

Or should he try to find Bobby first? According to his information, the base was about three days‘ walk from here. Even if he shortened the way from there through potential tunnels, he would certainly be on the road for another week to a week and a half. Nevertheless, this plan was perhaps the more sensible one.

In the rebel camp he could get new information, at best he could stock up his armament. He would have liked to thank Bobby for his help, without the interspersed hint of the mysterious ally in front of the cell, Dean would surely still be in the dungeon - or dead by now.

However, there was no question that the Phiconians would be looking for him. Either they would kill him on the spot or torture him for a long time. Likewise, it could be assumed that they would travel to Aquanilla and cancel their pact with the water strikers, if not violently, then with direct words.

Somewhat hidden, Dean saw a small cave that was well suited as a shelter for the moment. Once inside, he sank back onto his back. The more knowledge Dean gained, the more he lost his old self. He wanted to get back to his regular life, would have given just about anything for a boring daily grind, as long as he was safe for it.

Helpless, Dean propped himself up on his thighs, tucked his head between his legs, and fought his nausea. He slumped to the floor and crouched down. Although the floor was hard and angular, his eyes fell shut after a few seconds.

Suddenly, screams entered the cave and Dean was instantly wide awake. Everything sounded strange to him, but he heard two words clearly.

"Lake Illen! Gurgling Steep!“ Those were battle cries - and they were for his home. Dean’s nausea increased, but his decision was made. He had to return to his village and warn his family, his neighbors. Contrary to his previous plans, he had no choice but to take the water route.

He hastily packed up his things and ran back to the water. Where was the right entrance? He didn’t have time to test all the tunnels. The first thing he had to do was head east and then purposefully to the far southeast. So, on the off chance, Dean swam to a small island where massive uranium trees grew.

He climbed onto the patch of land and looked for clues to the way ahead. Finally, he bent close over the water and let his tongue do the searching. At this spot alone, he found two tunnels in a very short time. How many tunnels were there really in Taleria?

Undoubtedly, a huge underwater system had to exist, with most of the tunnels probably unusable. But one particular tunnel had to work, and that was the one Ciwu had used to get to them. Time passed, the sun slowly sank into the horizon, turning the sky red. He no longer dawdled.

A familiar roaring startled him out of his musings. A few seconds later, Ciwu came running out of a small hiding place among the tree roots.

"Ciwu!“ Dean yanked the pallusan into his arms and hugged him. "You wouldn’t believe how glad I am to see you, little friend.“

So had he not been captured after all? Or had he been able to free himself? They’d have plenty of time for tales of that sort later. "Which tunnel leads home?“  
Ciwu walked straight toward the tunnel, which was just under the trees. "All right, you swim ahead,“ Dean instructed his companion.

From here on, the road was a breeze. The special bond between them ensured that Ciwu was always aware of Dean’s physical condition. He lightly nibbled his fin when he spotted a resting spot. Finally, after three more days, they arrived at the familiar turnoff that led either to the village square or to Elighn. If he was lucky, his family would be home. Then he would be able to warn them in time.

***

As soon as he opened the hatch to Elighn, all hopes crumbled like clay on which the sun had shone too long. Throughout the house there were signs of devastation, the Phiconian guards had beaten him to it. All the cupboards had been torn open, no doubt in search of the information.

Dean could only hope that they had not found what they were after. After a few half-hearted calls for his father and Sammy, he descended right back into the hatch, though his hope was fading by the minute.

Exiting the tunnel, which immediately bordered the village square, his suspicions were confirmed. On the houses he caught sight of downed facades, the ground littered with bricks. He quickly retreated to a house that was located on a slight hill. From there, he could overlook the action from a safe distance.

He soon realized with horror that there was a large circle of people in the village square. They were all kneeling on the ground with their hands behind their heads. Scanning the crowd, Dean all too quickly found his father standing motionless but with his head held high. Where was Sammy? Nowhere did he see his body, which brought him relief. Where was he? Master Gilbat and his family, on the other hand, were nowhere to be found, nor were his friends.

Perhaps they had escaped? His father was in the immediate vicinity of a small, very broad soldier who seemed to be commanding the troops. In addition to him, there were about four dozen other soldiers, all of whom were either grilling a resident or feasting on the food.

The captain of the Pure Noses shouted at the top of his lungs in a foreign language, but Dean understood only fragments because of the distance. The threatening shouting continued like this for a while, then suddenly it became silent. Before Dean knew it, the soldier was cutting the throats of five Aquai. His breath hitched. Swords spoke a language that everyone understood.

It all happened so fast, but he couldn’t possibly take out all the opponents with his auxiliary dagger. How could he have been so stupid? He had come back here with only a measly dagger. Hadn’t it been obvious that the soldiers would use force? And he didn’t even have decent armor anymore, let alone stronger melee weapons or a bow with which he could take out some opponents from a distance.

What a fool he had been! Tears blurred his vision and he gruffly wiped the salty wetness from his eyes. He needed a plan - and fast.

The little elf soldier continued the killing without pause, wearing a mischievous grin on his ugly face. All too quickly, the soldier was on his father.

Dean couldn’t look, and heard his cry of pain. He was frozen in place. Everything he could have done flowed away like wax running inexorably down a candle. A "No!“ escaped him, covered by the soldiers‘ loud victory chant.

He started to sprint, but he was violently pulled back by the arm. A hand placed itself firmly over his mouth. "Shut up,“ hissed a gravelly voice.

Furious, Dean jerked around and pushed Cas off him. The other seemed to have expected this, however, as he cushioned himself expertly on his heels. Instead, he instantly threw himself at Dean, pressing down on him with all his weight.

How had he gotten here so fast? That was impossible. As he started to speak, Castiel pressed his hand tighter over his mouth. "Shut your mouth.“ Castiel’s voice sounded uncontrolled and his breath came in jerks.

"Listen to me. There are soldiers in all the streets near the village square. Not just the stolid men of my people, but elves trained over the years.“ At these words Dean became puzzled.

The fact that so many men were indeed in attack positions had escaped him. What were elf soldiers doing in Gurgling Steep? Usually, the elite warriors only strayed into smaller villages when they were cleaning up a mess.

"You’re lucky they didn’t spot you. How the heck did you even get here?“

Cas frowned and eyed him urgently. His words had caused such great confusion in Dean that he almost forgot who was actually sitting on him. He twisted back and forth under him, kicking out and squirming, but Cas held him. Castiel’s face had moved closer to his, and he was looking at him. Even more intensely than he usually did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)


	14. Old companionships under renewal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! :) Due to laptop issues (it broke down for good) and migraines I wasn't able to post the next chapter last week. That's why I will post more chapters this week. :)
> 
> Here comes chapter 14! :)

**Dean**

Castiel hissed, flared his nostrils in a way that made Dean’s heart beat faster. "If you don’t fight back, everything goes more smoothly. We have to get out of here. I think they have vanished from here, but they can’t be far away. I’m taking my hand off your mouth now.“  
"Screw you, Cas. Get off me!“ Cas didn’t even flinch at his words, seemed lost in thought, but then he raised his arms in the air placatingly.

"Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. As you should have noticed, I just saved your life. I have to be sure you’ll back off first, or they’ll kill us without hesitation.“ Having been immobilized, Dean spat right in Cas’s face.

"Did that help?“ retorted Cas mockingly, squinting his eyes.  
"What do you want from me? You took advantage of me and betrayed me. I almost died.“

"Which near-death experience in particular are you referring to?“ Cas asked smugly. How could he start joking in a situation like this, of all things? Dean wanted to get out of his clinging grip, needed to find out if maybe his brother was still alive. On the other hand, he kind of enjoyed being around Cas, and that thought terrified him. Why was Cas here?

That he would capture him, Dean didn’t believe. He had taken too much trouble to let their presence go unnoticed. Had he come here for him? And how was that even possible? And why was Dean so thrilled to see him? These were clearly too many questions for which he had no answers.

Again he kicked, and once more Cas held his body captive with his trained legs. "There’s nothing you can do for them, Dean. It’s too late, and it would have come to this anyway. If you had intervened, you would have died too.“  
"Is that supposed to comfort me somehow, or what? You’re so heartless.“  
"An ice princess, I remember.“ He pursed his lips into a sort of tortured smirk. "What I intended to say is that there are other tasks in store for you. Your brother is probably safe.“

Dean looked at him uncomprehendingly, whereupon Castiel gave him a meaningful look. "I haven’t been able to spot a boy. There are two possibilities: Your brother and his companions were kidnapped by the soldiers, or they managed to escape,“ Cas explained with a calm voice.

Why had Gurgling Steep been attacked so brutally? What did Queen Divinae hope to gain from this act? It had something to do with his grandfather, apparently. This didn’t make any sense. Dean had to find his brother, that was the only thing that mattered.

"Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place? I gotta go after them,“ Dean yelled once he was certain all the soldiers had left.  
"You want to go after them with your ridiculous dagger? And I thought the experiences of the last few weeks would have matured you.“ Cas shook his head in disbelief and sighed.

"There is a lot very wrong with you. I’m going to kill you the first chance I get.“  
"You’re welcome to try, but I’d prefer it if we worked together again.“ His hood slid down, and Dean resisted the strange urge to brush through the other’s hair.

"Forget it. I’m not going ten more feet anywhere with you.“ Cas looked up at the sky and leaned back toward Dean through clenched teeth. "I’m sure you’ll understand that I couldn’t easily stab my people in the back. They have a control over me that you could never imagine. Now I’m here.“

"Terrific. Today must be my lucky day,“ Dean replied.  
"I’m glad you realize that so quickly.“  
"Cas, I was kidding. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m serious. You can go fuck yourself, for all I care. Tell me one good reason why I should believe you.“

Castiel growled before leaning dangerously close to him. "I’ve rebelled, Dean. I’ve fought my own people. I’ve left Bow’s Wreath for good and therefore don’t have a place to call home anymore. And I did all of it for you.“

Castiel’s voice had sounded solemn, and there was no longer any mockery in his eyes. It was almost as if Dean recognized something like gentleness in them. "What do you mean?“ he asked with a strained voice.

"I ran away from Bow’s Wreath, leaving my former life behind. I came to the assumption this life is wrong, and that you spoke the truth.“

Dean felt somewhat taken off guard by this statement, rather overwhelmed. Could this really be? Warmth spread through him. This was an incredible thing that Cas had disclosed to him. Still. He had made the mistake before of giving in to this connection between them and trusting Cas. He had opened up, and Cas had betrayed him. That wouldn’t happen to him again.

"Who’s to say you won’t lure me into the next ambush? Last time I really trusted you, and this is how you thank me?“

"I’ll explain everything to you, I promise. Now is not the right time. Besides, I sent Turik to you, didn’t I? You’re free now.“ Who in all the gods was Turik? Aside from the dimwitted Mokz, Dean couldn’t remember anyone visiting him in the cell. No one had helped him; he had had to laboriously find his own way out. "Wait, you sent that nebulous man to me? Who only asked me if I was a water roamer?“

"I had a hunch since we met that you knew other ways of traveling. I thought you water roamers could teleport when you were near water. I thought you’d find a way to trick Mokz and then go to the watercourse where you washed. Apparently, it worked. It was my only chance to help you unnoticed. Otherwise, I would have had to make more of a fuss.“

"I don’t understand a thing anymore. First you take me to the dungeon, and then you free me. And how did you get here so fast anyway? That’s actually impossible.“

"I found out something about myself. That includes other ways of traveling as well. You don’t have to fear my father anymore, by the way,“ Cas admitted freely, only adding to Dean’s puzzlement. Did that mean Alastair was dead? Several questions ran through Dean’s mind. Why had Cas taken the risk? For him indeed? Instead, he decided to ask a more pressing question at the moment.

"Then why didn’t you help me right away when you seem to be more on my side?“ Maybe Cas wasn’t so wrong after all, more like the person who had crystallized more and more under his hard armor. The one with whom he had experienced moments of familiarity and with whom he had felt completely like himself.

"It’s complicated,“ Cas evaded him. "You can trust me. I’ve turned my back on my tribe.“

At those words, Cas finally got off him. Dean straightened up and kicked at Cas one more time to no avail.

Before he even had a hand on his dagger, Cas had a knife to his neck. "Don’t even try, you know I’m faster than you. You’ll have to take my word for it.“

Wordlessly, Dean rose and patted the dirt off his pants, so he could at least do something. "I don’t believe you, man.“

"You can and you should. To make up for it, I brought you your armor and weapons.“ Cas reached behind him and tossed him said items. "We’ll find a safe place, then you can change.“ Dean didn’t answer him and shouldered the items.  
"Bye,“ he said in Cas’s direction.

"I’ll go with you. We’ll form a companionship again.“ Castiel’s voice sounded firm. "And what if I ain’t interested?“ Dean asked incredulously.  
"Then we will ask your seal being.“ Ciwu must have heard them, because he came out from behind a tree. "Look at his neck.“

Frowning, Dean felt around on Ciwu’s neck, but soon found what he was looking for.  
A small piece of leather. Only when he turned the scrap over did he realize what Cas had meant. "You should not be separated. C.“

Dean looked at Castiel, perplexed. "You set him free? Cas, I don’t get it. You don’t even like me.“

"You will receive my explanations soon enough. Just know that I have my reasons. And I do trust you. At first, I didn’t understand why, since you’re clumsy, hot-headed and talk too much. But I guess when you experience as much together as we do, eventually it forms a real community. And you’re wrong, I don’t hate you. I realized my sympathies lie with you.

When exactly it came to this, I can no longer reconstruct. But be sure, it is the case. As I mentioned before, we have a bond, a profound one even. Honestly, I suspect that the mark on your back has something to do with it, too. I guess we’ll have to find out what the nature of the connection is and how it came about.“

By Castiel’s standards, that statement had just been almost emotional. It must have taken a lot for him to be reasonably nice to him. Castiel liked him. That was another thing he hadn’t expected.

All his tension was released in a loud laugh. The situation was just too absurd. "Did you just make that up, or is that really supposed to be something like an apology?“ He liked that they were finally getting back to each other, even if it all still made him skeptical. Until a few hours ago, he had been convinced that Cas was his enemy. That he had mistakenly trusted him.

"Grab your things, we’ll look for a place to hide and talk about what to do next,“ Castiel instructed him. "It’s still a long way to go before we get to the capital to see the queen, and many challenges await us along the way.“

"I don’t remember agreeing with you.“ Castiel’s whole demeanor told him that he must indeed have fled Bow’s Wreath. His usually well-groomed hair was disheveled, his clothes were full of holes, and his arms and face were full of bruises and cuts.

His journey had apparently been arduous. In addition, Dean noticed that he was carrying less than usual. From this, Dean concluded that he had left in a hurry. Could he trust Cas? He had betrayed him, but seemed to feel honest remorse. Dean decided to accept his company at least as far as the base, but to remain cautious in dealing with him. Alone, he simply offered too large an attack surface. He needed to know more before that.

Dean flashed his eyes at Cas, trying to sort out his conflicting feelings. "If this is going to work-“ Dean pointed at Cas, then at himself. "Then you’re going to have to talk straight to me. At least give me some kind of clue, otherwise I don’t know how to trust you.“

Still Dean wavered between his initial skepticism of him and the involuntary admiration he felt for him.

Without a doubt, he was an excellent fighter, understood targeted attacks with surprise effect, and was able to react with the necessary defense even in the case of larger groups of opponents.  
Dean credited him for choosing loyalty to him at the right moment when Dean had been imprisoned.

Cas took his time with his answer, so long that Dean assumed he would remain silent. "I can only guess myself. Until recently, there was some sort of spell or magical shackle on me that made me forget elementary things. My true existence. You freed me from it. I thought I had been living with the Phiconians since childhood, but I was obviously wrong. Rather, I apparently belong to another people. Furthermore, I am only partly human. Of that I am certain.“

"M‘kay.“ Dean let Castiel’s words sink in for a while and put a hand to his chin. It was a lot of new information, but at least it explained why Castiel had seemed so different than the rest of the Phiconians. And so different from anyone else, for that matter. What people did he belong to instead? Dean was dying to know more.

"That means you’ve been manipulated. I’m sorry. No one should have to experience that,“ Dean finally muttered, ignoring the fact that Cas had cited him as the reason for breaking the spell. Him. The implications of that statement dried his throat and caused a strange tingling in his body.

"I was virtually a slave, being probed,“ Cas whispered into the quiet of the forest. "For some reason, I was supposed to forget my true existence. My memories are creeping back, hour by hour I see more clearly. I am uncertain how much I can tell you in the current situation. I’m afraid that there are still people watching me and trying to prevent me from revealing my true self. I am still not sure whether my suspicions are the truth. Let’s say they are. This means more danger awaits us.

Nonetheless, nobody except for my foster parents seem to be aware of my true nature, and my mother certainly won’t tell another person. She would bring danger onto herself. You should know that my mere existence is prohibited, so I can’t talk about it freely here. But what’s important right now is that I finally know my true origins again. And I want to be here. With you.“

Well, that had been one long speech. If the things Cas had told him were true, Dean would admit to himself that he had done Cas wrong in many ways. Still, he did not know why Alastair had focused so much on Cas. What could make a foundling so special that they would take on all those hardships, yet raise this boy for years? In that time, they could have expanded their field of power much better, much more meaningfully.

"What a waste of time,“ Dean accidentally spoke his thought aloud. Cas regarded him with indignation. "On the whole. You’d think they’d be trying to get to the queen, or at least something comparable. Instead, they focus on you like this. Why?“

Was Cas subconsciously or consciously guarding a secret that could give their opponents an advantage? Had he done something terrible that he didn’t want anyone to know about? The truth lay somewhere in between, but it didn’t occur to Dean what could be so significant.

"I don’t know.“ Cas had never seemed so helpless to him. "I remember my youth by now, but there’s a huge gap before and after that. Absolute nothingness.“

"You’re a mystery to me, ya know that?“ said Dean into the silence. "You’re a much more pleasant person without that ban.“

"You must have taken a knock on the head in the heat of the moment,“ Cas said mockingly. "Nice of you to become a jokester at my expense. Again.“

"I don’t know who or what that is supposed to be. Regardless of that, we should get going, not that there are any soldiers returning again.“

Dean ran completely on adrenaline. He didn’t want to, couldn’t, think about his father’s murder. He had to find out what was going on, had to know where Sammy had gone. They moved more into the center of the action.

The whole village square screamed destruction and death. From his position, Dean was unfortunate enough to overlook everything in minute detail. It smelled of fear-sweat, sulfur and the other sweet bitter note that elves typically exuded.

The houses located directly on the main street showed signs of destruction, shutters had been knocked off with the massive longswords of soldiers, the clay ornaments of the old fountain displayed imprints of morning stars and similar percussion weapons.  
If the central square of Gurgling Steep normally captivated with its idyllic and cozy atmosphere, it now presented a horror picture. Joyful memories of feasts, games of tag with comrades, and the market hustle and bustle mingled with the cries of death. Melancholy weakened him, he could not let himself be taken over by it.

"I’m planning to kill the queen, by the way. Will you help me?“ Castiel asked nonchalantly.  
Sure, that sounded easy enough. "I’m going to find my brother, and bring him back home safely. I don’t care about the rest.“

Castiel kicked the nearest tree. "One won’t work without the other, though. Or do you think they’ll just let you walk through the realm?“

"I’ll worry about that when the time comes. Why do you care so much, anyway?“ Dean pulled on the armor, angrily blocking out the pain. "Like I said, I have my reasons.“ Cas lowered his gaze and clenched his hands into fists. Dean sensed anger in him, and his posture boded danger.

"I won’t tell anyone your secrets, if that’s what you fear.“ He kneaded his hands and clicked his tongue. Castiel looked up again, eyeing him in that idiosyncratic way Dean had grown so used to by now.

"I didn’t expect you to do so,“ Castiel finally contradicted him, and Dean raised an eyebrow. He huffed. Why was Cas being so nice to him all of a sudden? Did he actually like him? Castiel cleared his throat, apparently about to continue.

"Your family holds many secrets of its own, and you have proven yourself quite trustworthy so far. I’m the one who has a lot to make up for here. Still, you have a loose mouth. I’d probably have to slap you on the back of the head every few hours to curb your tongue.“

Had Cas been joking? Either he was funnier without that spell or Dean’s behavior was affecting him.

In any case, their conversations still gave him immense fun, especially because Castiel had recently become more awkward, almost uncertain sometimes. This could be amusing. And Dean needed laughter. He needed it to ground himself in the present. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to keep it together any longer. He needed so say something quick-witted. "I’m a water roamer, my tongue is my strongest muscle.“

This statement seemed to occupy Castiel’s mind for an unexpectedly long time. "How does your tongue actually work?“ Cas eyed him intently, his gaze interested and intense. Dean snorted and raised his eyebrows in surprise. The ambiguity of his words apparently escaped his attention completely.

"I’m known in the ladies‘ world for my excellent kissing techniques.“ To punctuate his statement, he winked suggestively at Cas. Was he blushing slightly? No, he had to imagine things.

"All kidding aside. I don’t know the exact biological connections myself. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, my tongue usually looks quite normal.“

Demonstratively, he stuck out his tongue, eliciting Cas’s eye roll again, which he found adorable by now. Secretly. "However, if I use all my concentration, I can do something like this.“

Again his tongue shot out, and he unerringly snatched a leaf from the nearest bush. He grinned broadly at Castiel, who had been watching his movement spellbound. "Otherwise, an acrobatic exercise like that just happens mostly underwater.“

Dean coughed, suddenly feeling so vulnerable and slowly realizing how much he was the center of attention. Moreover, Castiel was studying his features so intently that Dean felt dizzy. Why did Castiel always throw him off with his stares? It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Dean was a grown man, no longer a pubescent boy. Besides, and this was the more crucial aspect, Castiel was a man. A man. It wasn’t right.

"You water roamers are one of the most fascinating peoples in Taleria.“  
"Says the person who apparently belongs to a particularly rare species in all the land.“ For there was no longer any doubt in his mind: that Castiel was different. Despite his still existing anger he was glad Castiel had come back for him.

They had to figure everything out, had to get to know the other better and anew. There were so many questions regarding Cas’s true nature which occupied Dean’s mind at the moment. Who was he really? Which true form, he had spoken of, did Cas possess? Dean was simultaneously fascinated and horrified.

Castiel could be vile, and yet he appeared more peaceful than ever. A voice inside him told him Cas was in fact dangerous, but not to him. Who was telling him this and why? And what did this ominous remark even mean? Right here, in this place of destruction, wasn’t the right time to approach those matters. People had died – his dad had died.

Dean sucked in air sharply. Yes, his dad was dead. He really was dead. It still seemed so unreal to him, he hadn’t processed this fact properly. Dean solely ran on adrenaline and anger and curiosity, and he couldn’t think.

As soon as he would start to do that, he would lose his mind. He would panic, break down, shatter, and he wasn’t sure he could move on after that.

Immediately, he remembered his mother’s death. No, he couldn’t think about her now. Or about his dad. Or about the possibility that Sammy might also be dead. There were so many things which awaited him. So much.

Apparently, Dean had kept his mouth shut for quite some time since Castiel tilted his head in confusion now. Dean laughed, and at that moment he was glad to be doing this task with Castiel.

"We’re an odd pair, Bobby had a point then, I guess,“ Castiel surmised.  
"And yet we kinda patched things up, huh?“ asked Dean in a slightly better mood. Distraction was good, he couldn’t think about his father. Moreover, he couldn’t reflect on the fact he felt partly relieved about his death. He was such a damaged person and a bad son.

Castiel nodded and then hugged Dean without a warning. His hair tickled the back of his neck and face. Dean had missed the familiar smell of honey and forest. "You give me a small glimmer of hope that maybe someday I can live normally and freely. I thank you for that.“ At the end, Cas’s voice had been a mere whisper.

Jerkily, Cas broke away from him again. "You’re always good for a surprise,“ Dean said to hide his confusion. He scratched the back of his head. Who could have expected such an exuberant reaction?

"You’re unbelievable,“ Dean grumbled. He couldn’t figure out Castiel. Although he was by no means acting as dismissive and strange as before, currently he was downright open, he was still obviously holding something back, and he couldn’t risk being fooled by him again. For now, he had to let the subject go. "We’ll go back to my house first, and then we’ll go from there.“

"All right, I’ll follow you.“ That was all Castiel replied. This fact alone would normally have made Dean wonder, but at the moment there was no time for that. They left the debris field and walked with quick steps towards the Elighn. Ciwu ran in front, his movements not nearly as light-footed and cheerful as usual. He also absorbed the atmosphere like a sponge.

On the shore of Lake Illen, very close to the Elighn, someone was already waiting for them. It was a man wrapped in a cloak.

Immediately Dean looked for his weapon. "Tell me who you are right now, or I’ll kill you.“ Whether he was able to, he didn’t know, but he was sure Castiel already had his bow in place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there are still many unanswered questions regarding Cas's true nature and his past. These matters will be explained in the next chapters. We'll also get a full Cas chapter (chapter 16) where we learn more about his abilities, other appearance and his current feelings. The number of his POVs will increase a lot from now on. :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. 
> 
> Chapter 15: February 6


	15. Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > "Oh, my sweet boys.“ Rowena clapped her hands. "I noticed right away that there is a special bond between you. At a crucial moment which happened between the two of you, this mark was created. Castiel left the mark on you, but that would never have been possible without your permission, even if it was on a subconscious level. You sought each other out and found yourselves in your equal.“

**Dean**

"You already know me as Rowena.“ At the same moment, the man took on the appearance of the herbalist. "I take many guises. I am a swap-mage, the last in freedom, and have devoted my entire life to the guidance and protection of the Erudíni.“

"What’s that?“ Dean realized he was getting indignant again, but he was so tired of all the riddles and burdens. Why didn’t anyone ever speak plainly to him? All his life it had been like this. He hated this. In fact, he became so angry that he desperately longed to punch something.

"It would be translated as scholar, even if that does not match it completely. You’ll learn everything in its own time. First we must unleash your powers, yes, yes.“  
"My what?“

"Your powers.“ Her voice was so firm, was imbued with an incomparable clarity.  
"I can’t cast a spell on anything, make it levitate or burst into flames.“

"That’s right. To fully unleash your magic, you need an amulet. But more importantly for the time being, only you have access to secret knowledge. Your powers open secret gates, Dean, you are destined for greatness.“

"You’re nuts. I’m gonna save my brother, my only family left. After that, I’m going back to work and enjoy my quiet life.“  
"Lad, you can’t.“

Dean snorted, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You bet I can. I’m wasting my time here, I’ve got a long journey ahead of me with the queen’s riders waiting along the way.“  
"I told you it couldn’t be done. Will you listen to me now?“

"I don’t wanna talk. I wanna leave.“ He knew he was being stubborn, but this new information was overwhelming him. Was that why he’d had the mark on his skin for a few weeks? Why him of all people?

He came from humble origins, had never heard of anyone in his family possessing magical gifts. Magic was something for the Elves and Artimagi. He was human, that was the only explanation that made sense.

"You will only be able to save your brother if you learn everything you need to know.“  
"Tell me what you think I need to know, and then leave me alone. You are mistaken, for I am most certainly not the savior of Taleria. My village has just been virtually wiped out, my father is dead, and my brother has dropped off the face of the earth. I have more pressing concerns.“

Tears welled up in his eyes and he blinked them away angrily.

"I know and for that I am truly sorry. But your father wanted it this way, he was prepared for his death.“  
"You’re crazy.“ Dean wanted to get away. Fear rose inside him, taking his breath away like two hands squeezing his throat with all their might.

"You are one of the last Erudíni and, what is more important, the one to whom your grandfather bequeathed his greatest secret. It concerns a magical portal. Have you never wondered who your grandfather really was? Why he was so well known? Erudíni only show every second generation. First it was your grandfather, now it is you. Nalel kept many records and collected ancient documents. Only his true heir can decipher and find them, he made sure of that.“  
"I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never heard of this.“

"You will find the portal that leads into the castle and open it, and by doing that close it forever.“  
"Why would I close a portal that can lead us to the queen? Her castle is impenetrable, many have sought a way to bypass the power of Nuvolin. Are you sure you are properly informed?“

"Travel as far as Fimai, after that, everything will fall into place.“ For a problem to vanish into thin air on its own, even to be resolved, would be a sensation.  
"If that’s the only assistance we get, we might as well throw ourselves in front of the royal castle,“ Dean stated bitterly.

"For the journey, take this with you.“ Rowena handed Dean a vial.  
"What’s that for? So we can outrun our enemies and poison ourselves in case of emergency?“ asked Dean.

This was another one of those situations where he covered his insecurity with slogans. Castiel rolled his eyes as usual, but Rowena giggled happily. "I have remedies for that, too, yes. This vial contains no liquid but a stone that will allow you to speed up your journey.“

"A teleportation stone.“ Dean looked at the vial in his hands in amazement. "It’s very valuable.“ He had already watched Master Gilbat brew the potion which was part of the stone’s power. The process required many ingredients that were hard to come by, plus it took a long time to prepare.

"You’ll need all the assistance you can get. Do you still have that leather bracelet I gave you?“ she added. "I must have lost that in the fight,“ Dean muttered meekly. Rowena hissed.  
"Young one, young one. That bracelet has already served you well, it seems to me. Judging by your tales, you’ve been close to death several times. If I were you, I’d pay a little more attention to auxiliary instruments.“

At these words, Castiel let out a triumphant "Hah!“ which Dean blanked out. "Forgive me. I’m a wiser man now. Experience has taught me a thing or two. So, I should actually be applauded for escaping from Phiconian captivity even without the lucky charm.“ He said the last words emphatically, reminding Castiel that they had just made peace.  
"How did this happen? Your peoples are on diplomatic terms.“ The swap-mage fussed with her numerous pots and threw in some roots. Why she was carrying around so many things was also a mystery to him.

"Tell that to the chief of Bow’s Wreath. All he was interested in was how to get my inheritance. All they wanted to do was execute me, sacrifice me to their gods.“

"Dean!“ Castiel hissed, to which he merely snorted. The only sounds that followed now were the steady clatter of equipment and the hum of Rowena. She looked too relaxed. How could she be indifferent to everything? But no, Dean remembered the outburst of the herbalist at that time.

He wanted to vanish, could not think about the past hours. He shuddered thinking how narrowly he had escaped such a fate. And yet he had not been able to escape in time. Although he probably would not have stood a chance against the attackers, an attempt would have been the least he could have done.

Dean remembered Castiel’s words that he would have perished as well. He was probably right, he bitterly admitted to himself. He missed his family already. His father had caused him much grief, but he was still his father. But most of all, he missed Sammy’s euphoria and brightness. As soon as he thought of his brother, tears gathered in his eyes.

What had Rowena said? That his father had been prepared for this? What did that mean?

At least she had to give him answers to that. "You mentioned something earlier,“ Dean began. "How could my father have willingly accepted death?“  
A long sigh followed and Rowena’s shoulders slumped even further.

"Dean, I’m not the right person to explain that to you in more detail. Admittedly, your father knew about your family history. Very well. If it helps you accomplish your mission,“ she mumbled, turning away from them. The swap-mage reached into the inside pocket of her robe and handed him a single sheet of parchment. It was crumpled and dirty. Now Castiel also rose from his cross-legged seat and walked closer to them. "Read!“

" _Dean. If you’re reading this, something happened to me. If everything went according to plan, I escaped with your brother - otherwise I’m dead. Don’t worry, your brother is with Master Gilbat, in a hidden place, and you will see him again at the latest after your task._  
 _We mustn’t put you in danger, we mustn’t give our enemies a chance to attack. I have been preparing for this moment for years. Our family descends from one of the oldest – the original – bloodlines in all Taleria._

 _Your grandfather has bequeathed you a key that will give you access to a room in the library of Fimai. Learn everything you, the son of a potion brewer, need to know. It will be important. You will find the key in the heart. Goodbye. Your father._ “

Dean looked at questioning faces. "Well?“ Castiel urged in an even deeper voice than usual. Dean’s fingers clenched around the letter as if to hold his father in the here and now. More tears ran down his cheeks and his lips tasted salty. "You have to give our Dean a moment. He is in mourning,“ Rowena explained patiently and without rebuke.

"I understand,“ Castiel replied softly. "Forgive me, Dean. Losing family is painful.“ His words sounded wooden, yet Dean believed in their sincerity. "I don’t wanna think about it right now. I think the task will help me.“ They looked into each other’s eyes, and again they held eye contact longer than people usually would.

Castiel smiled at him, and for that moment Dean felt as if only the two of them existed. It scared him, but he let it happen. A strange tingling sensation spread through Dean, and his surroundings flickered before his eyes.

Many colors suddenly appeared, beautiful colors, mostly an incredible purple. At the same time he heard incomparable melodic sounds that caressed his soul. The sensations grew stronger and stronger, and he wondered if he was hallucinating it all.

Suddenly, Rowena cried out. "Oh boy, now your fate is sealed!“ What was this woman talking about again? Was she trying to agitate him more with each passing minute? Did his despair give her a perverse pleasure?

"You are not only an Eredín and the sealer, coming from the oldest bloodline, no, you are indeed the chosen one.“

"I can’t understand a word you’re saying.“  
"Oh, Dean, you are obviously marked. I sense it clearly now.“ With a haste he would not have thought the herbalist capable of, she ran to him. Firmly, she grabbed him by the wrist, then unbuttoned his shirt. Castiel cleared his throat, and Dean looked at Rowena incredulously. "Whaddaya think you’re doing?“

"You’re going to save our beautiful island, that much is certain. I have already guessed that this will happen. Now the prophecy of the wise Malinka is coming true. Of course, I don’t know the exact wording, I was never allowed to hear those sacred words. But you possess the divine mark, Uisca’s wave, now there is no doubt. When did you get the mark?“

"I don’t frigging know when it appeared. Cas discovered it during our trip,“ Dean rattled off, puffing furiously.

"Oh, my sweet boys.“ Rowena clapped her hands. "I noticed right away that there is a special bond between you. At a crucial moment which happened between the two of you, this mark was created. Castiel left the mark on you, but that would never have been possible without your permission, even if it was on a subconscious level. You sought each other out and found yourselves in your equal.“

Dean looked back and forth between Rowena and Cas in disbelief. A soft snort escaped him. Cas seemed strangely calm. Was that what he had meant by hallmarked? Had he suspected something like that? Was that partly why he had been so distant? Because the whole thing had frightened him? Dean didn’t understand anything anymore.

"You’re kidding,“ he said, turning to Rowena. Then he caught Cas’s gaze. "Cas, you gotta say something to this.“  
"I think she is right,“ Cas whispered, quickly averting his eyes. "I do not understand the nature of our bond but it is there.“  
"Uh-huh. I gotta get outta here,“ Dean mumbled, but Rowena grabbed his arm.

"You are the Philtex, the weaver who was announced to bind the gullets with his magic.“ Dean groaned. Had this woman gone completely insane? When Castiel snorted, it gave him satisfaction for a change. At least he was on his side while the lady was slowly going insane.

"You’re becoming 26 years old soon, aren’t you?“ muttered Rowena. "What does that matter? Listen, for my sake, I’m going to look for that fabled library. After all, I want my people to be safe. Then, whoever feels called to destroy the queen, should do it. I have neither the skills nor the weapons to do it.“

"Yes, you do,“ Rowena still asserted with complete conviction. "By the time you are twenty-six, they have been fully revealed, I am certain. Besides, this date marks the anniversary of the day Queen Divinae came to power. All of this is no coincidence, my boy.“

She put her chin between her hands and thought. "I wonder...“ she muttered, once again to herself. Dean grew increasingly uneasy. If her hints had seemed mysterious and exciting to him before, he just loathed her riddles. "Speak, or this conversation is over,“ he hissed at her.

"All right. There are rumors about the true origin of Taleria. A legend written down by the first people. The rumors say Taleria was not simply created by our goddess Uisca but there is more to it. Much more. The prophecy about the weaver comes into place here. Unfortunately, the legend must be well hidden.

I suppose your grandfather knew more, maybe even hid it somewhere. I do not know this for certain, sweet boy, but trust me – the library will give you answers. A well-trusted friend of mine also possesses more insights regarding your powers. He was nowhere to be found but I am certain he will show himself in due time.“

According to what he had learned so far, his grandfather had done something many decades ago that had caused terrible consequences. That much Dean understood. What he couldn’t wrap his head around, however, was the fact that no one had seen fit to tell him about it until now.

Mystery and mystery towered over him, on and on. Dean feared being crushed under all these things. Anger boiled up inside Dean. "I have to get outta here.“

Dean walked outside the door and stared up at the sky.

What was happening here? What kind of portal was he supposed to open and close? Who had created it and for what reasons?

Everything was different all of a sudden. His only consolation at the moment was that his grandfather - however - had been working towards it.

And yet, Dean had not expected it. Who could have prepared him for the numerous murders in this land and his village, in particular? For the destruction?  
He had thought the mark was aftermaths of a wound, not marrow, caused due to a prophecy. And more significantly - caused by Cas? He sobbed indignantly and felt as if the ground was opening up beneath him. Then he yelled against the wind. The longer he screamed, the more he shook.

At some point he had roared himself into a trance and hit the wall of the house. One punch. The next punch. Another. More strength this time. He screamed again, always repeating the word "Why“. He screamed until his lungs burned.

Why did he have this burden? The next punch. What was so special about his family line? He punched once more. And why had anyone ever told him about anything? Another punch. Why?

His breathing was ragged, his throat was sore. He only wanted to dive into the ocean, swim away and release the worries with it. He wanted to swim and explore and play with Ciwu and lose himself in the best way. He wanted to be his old self again. Only for a while. This door was shut forever, he knew that.

Dean sniffed, grumbled in annoyance because he developed childish thoughts in this serious situation. Breathe in, breathe out, he reminded himself.  
Exhausted, he leaned his forehead against the cold stone, and tried to ignore how much his body trembled. It was all too much.

His father. His brother. This task. The mark. The powers. Cas. His pain. The questions. The queen. And more trivial, yet pressing things like the marriage requirement.

His hands were bloody and numb when he returned to Rowena and Castiel. To his astonishment, they did not comment with a word on his outburst, which they had surely witnessed. Ciwu approached him with small steps - his emotionality must have simply overwhelmed the pallusan. Dean ignored the mess, the twinge in his chest, and the rising panic.

He remembered his former panic attacks all too well. The ones that had drained his entire body and had pained him so much that only drinking a tea, brewed out of the koyneke, had helped him a little. He had to ground himself. Right now. He had to think. This was his home, the place where he had grown up, the place where his families secrets were developed and lay hidden. The origin of the hovisiv tunnels.

The heart.

This could only mean the hovisiv tunnel under the house. He had never noticed a key there before. His complete focus was now on the task ahead. Occupation had been a good remedy for him even when his mother died.

"Would you please leave the house for a while?“ asked Dean intently. His voice brooked no argument, and a short time later he was alone with Ciwu in the Elighn. He immediately went to the tunnel entrance and opened the hatch as usual with his tongue. As soon as his transformation was complete, a feeling of freedom flowed through him. He slid into the water, but did not let himself drift on as usual, instead pausing in his movement. Where could the key be hidden?

The tunnel was centrally located under the house – the key could only be hidden here. Since he couldn’t think of anything else, he ran his tongue over every accessible spot in the immediate vicinity. Twice the hovisiv opened, but Dean found only a narrow tunnel he had never noticed and a storage room with ancient water plants and boxes. There was nothing else.

For all his caution, he could not imagine his grandfather giving the heart clue and then placing the key at the end of the passage. All that remained was the small storage closet. He swam into the completely blocked room and tried to be as specific as possible. What was in the boxes?

Riodophis plants in unimaginable quantities, colorful salt stones that would have given Sammy great pleasure, all kinds of corals and foreign plants – but all this could not be what he was looking for. Then a flash of inspiration came to him: the koyneke, popularly called heart root. He found large sealing jars filled to bursting with it. This had to be the solution.

Thinking of his grandfather’s acumen, Dean had to grin. One by one, he lifted the bulky jars, unscrewed the caps, and rooted around in them with his fingers. That was the advantage of the koyneke, it was not easily destroyed. The water made the search much more difficult, and soon Dean felt his arms souring.

He directed all his senses to his family and thus gained new strength. Then, finally, his index finger touched something metallic.

The key was small, almost nondescript, the only thing that stood out was a pentagonal symbol at the bottom. But that couldn’t be all his grandfather had bequeathed him.

Somewhere in this room there had to be instructions hidden, some kind of message. Feverishly, he searched his memories for something that could be useful to him here, a secret that his grandfather and he shared.

With all the things Dean had learned from him, it was difficult to pick out the right one at this moment of all times. In addition to many stories about good and evil creatures of Taleria, his lessons had consisted mostly of accurate and pictorial descriptions of sea plants. If it went according to that, every good stored here could be the one that brought him the missing clue.  
He would be busy with that for weeks! The confidence he had possessed at the beginning increasingly evaporated. Was his grandfather leading him astray like this?

Certainly, he could have done that, he had certainly wanted to avoid that an unauthorized person found by chance. "You must always be one step ahead of your fellow men, let them feel your strengths as a wave of power,“ he had drilled into him at the time. He couldn’t have meant-?

If Dean hadn’t been so tense, he probably would have laughed, willingly accepting the irritating water bubbles. The garmen-mussel was also known as a wavebreaker because of its imposing size. As an ingredient, it went into liqueurs in particular. It had to be!

To his left, he had previously spotted some stone chests with shells and coral, hiding the answers he longed for. The sharp edges of the shells cut into his hands, scraping his hand so that he was soon bleeding. In a chest, almost hidden at the very back of the wall, he finally found what he was looking for.

An exceedingly beautiful specimen of the wavebreaker. Inside was a piece of folded leather. With a pounding heart, Dean reached for it, and shoved it between his teeth. Now he had to get back to the Elighn quickly, desperate to learn what was written on the leather. With the key and the riddle, he swam back, and climbed out of the tunnel. A first important step was accomplished.

After putting his clothes back on, he unfolded the piece of leather. The material struck him with awe, for the leather came from a birifa. As soon as he read the words, his elation sank rapidly. It was his grandfather’s life story in a nutshell. Had he missed something? Again and again he skimmed the lines.

" _A long time ago I was a water roamer without a fixed house,_  
 _Wandering through the countryside with my divine book which made me rouse._

_Instructive acquaintances I made now and then,_   
_On other days only my researches drove me again._

_I heard and read of biting wolves, tearing birifas, seductive Harpies and scaly dragons wide awake,_   
_Realized on my travels what a difference the ancient trees and the veritable gold of the mountain tops make._

_I earned my money with potions from riodophis and many more,_   
_Ingredients from hiding places of the sea._

_My life would have been better only if I had lived in a house at the shore_  
 _On a lush meadow with flowers and clover leaf._ “

That was to be all? The great legacy of Nalel, the well-known water roamer? A certain disappointment could not drive Dean from his thoughts. Or was there more to it than that?  
He wouldn’t be able to solve this mystery right away, yet he had to find out at least something. Perhaps he should focus less on the content itself and more on the exact choice of words and the hidden meaning.

Why, for example, did his grandfather talk about having traveled with a divine book? Surely, he had taken several books with him to read. Books which had fascinated him, probably causing him to exchange the knowledge books now and then. It made no other sense to him.

Unless his grandfather did not speak at all of a common book from which he had gained information, but that gained important message. A book about the history and origins of Taleria. About the goddess Uisca. That had to be it.

Rowena had told them about these specific rumors only today. It fit.

Relieved, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. At least he now had a first idea what he had to look for in the library.

He opened the front door to find Castiel shooting arrows at nearby trees. He seemed very focused, completely fell into the action once he got involved in the fight. Dean had observed Castiel from time to time on their journey. Always biting his lips while shooting, strengthening his shoulders, almost no sounds coming out of his mouth. Fascinating.

"Always in training, huh?“ Dean asked hoarsely. Castiel didn’t respond at all and fired three arrows at once. Two arrows splintered on the tree trunk, one stuck in the wood. An unbelievable sight.  
Castiel lowered his arms and reattached the bow to his back. Only then did he look directly at Dean. "Without practice, I get sloppy. Did you find what you were looking for?“ he asked.

If his wet appearance made Cas wonder, he was good at hiding it. By now, he actually had to have a clue, but was happily keeping a low profile. "I did.“ Dean remembered their conversation on the debris field and decided it couldn’t hurt if he shared more information with him. They formed a companionship.

"My grandfather left me a key. I found it. I think it is supposed to open a room in a secret library. Where it is located, however, remains a mystery to me.“  
Castiel regarded him blankly. "Dean, we will find a way. What’s the next step in our journey?“

His companion acted more amenable, oriented to what he had in mind. His words could not have been empty husks. "We will travel to the merchant’s fork and go on from there. Since we already traveled that route, I remember the details quite well. I want to spend the night outside as little as possible. And you might want to reconsider your decision not to travel with your fast-speed-power.“ Dean paused, looking around. "Wait. Where did Rowena go, anyway?“

"She simply said that you knew everything there was to say for now, and that we would see each other again soon. Then she disappeared without a word, where to, I can’t say.“ This was in accordance with Dean’s suspicions. "Strange woman,“ he said, grumbling. "I guess it’s best we don’t worry our heads about that, too. Are you ready to go?“

"We’re good to go. What about your pallusan – little Ciwu?“ Castiel wanted to know abruptly. "Can he make such a long journey?“ At an earlier time Cas would have asked him that in an annoyed, impatient manner; now it sounded more like something that could almost be called caring.

"Honestly? I’m not sure,“ Dean replied. "We’ll see how far we get, otherwise I’ll carry him on my back. He’s light, so that shouldn’t be a problem. I’m more afraid of his reaction. If I’m not mistaken, a friend’s father owns horses. We should get them, we’ll make much faster progress that way.“

"I’m not an advocate of riding, I need to have control over how I move myself,“ Castiel interjected, shrugging his shoulders the next moment. "Be that as it may. I agree with your suggestion. We have a lot of stops to make, so any time saved should come in handy.“

At this point in their conversation, Dean again wanted to ask if they couldn’t choose the mode of travel that had gotten Castiel to Gurgling Steep. But he suspected Castiel didn’t want to take any chances at the moment. Still, they couldn’t put off this topic forever. The subject of his true existence. "You’re unusually affable. Should I be concerned?“

"I am merely keeping my word and following you on your route. But don’t think that henceforth I’ll blindly agree with you on everything you say. That’s not in my nature.“

Dean raised his eyebrows and checked his equipment. He felt strange in his new role. Involuntarily, he had become the leader of their expedition, but knew nothing about how to reach their final destination. His only option was to proceed step by step and let the journey take care of itself. Finally, he turned to Castiel. "I would have been very surprised at anything else, Ice Princess. On to the horses.“

Unexpectedly, Castiel placed a hand on his left shoulder. "My condolences for your loss.“ Just the little touch and those two words. Nothing more. And yet, they meant something to Dean. A lot, actually.

Again, he felt the urge to fathom Castiel, to understand his person, even the veiled parts. Why? He couldn’t answer this stupid question.

Instead, he studied Castiel who had to be lost in thought since he didn’t seem to mind at all.

Immediately, Dean noticed his furrowed forehead and the black rings under his eyes. With desolation, he perceived the clearly visible red veins in Cas’s eyes. Next, he noticed the scratches on his cheeks and the dried blood on his chin and nose.

Moreover, he saw the slightly upturned corners of his mouth. The little light blue, almost white sprinkles in Cas’s eyes which always appeared when he felt an adrenaline rush, when he was in his element. This color reminded him of the sky painted with mellow clouds. Clouds on which the spectator could mentally float away to better spheres.

Castiel’s eyes were a sight that warmed his belly in an unfamiliar way. Dean noticed the sun-tanned skin which made Cas’s appearance even more nature-related, exotic and perhaps a little magical.

Then, his eyes explored Cas’s hair once more. Somehow, the frizzy hair had become much longer over the course of the last days. How was that even possible? Dean ignored the familiar wish to tousle the other’s hair, to bury his hands into them and holding him, so Cas couldn’t vanish before he explained to him how he did it. How he mesmerized Dean like that.

Dean also studied Cas’s now broader shoulders, his arms, his chest, his legs. Castiel wasn’t overly muscular but possessed much strength all the same. He had an aura, carried a certain power which Dean couldn’t describe or place. Down and up and down and up his eyes wandered, and Dean had long since forgotten every concept of time.

He swallowed as his gaze landed on Cas’s mouth again. Why was he so obsessed with Castiel’s eyes and mouth? By now, he must’ve observed those two body parts so precisely, other people would consider him a freak. He definitely shouldn’t make that a normal habit.

Cas’s lips were bleeding, he must’ve chewed on them again. Dean shook his head, then stared once more. He was really out of his mind. Without thinking, he stroked Castiel’s bottom lip with his thumb. Long, too long to go unnoticed.

"What’s wrong?“ Castiel asked and looked at Dean with this intriguing curiosity.  
Dean cleared his throat, still not removing his thumb and applying more pressure. Gentle pressure. "Nothing,“ he replied, voice coming out scratchy. "Your lips are kinda hurt.“

Dean’s breathing stopped. Damn. Cas was glowing. Not in the figurative sense – literally. There was a shimmer above and on and all around him. Circling his entire being. And Dean had never sensed something so interesting and overwhelming and beautiful. It wasn’t the sight itself, it was the feeling it created in him. The sight stirred something in him, reminded him of something – what?

"You’re glowing, Cas,“ Dean remarked because he didn’t know what to say. What was one to say in absurd moments like this?

"I am aware,“ Cas answered solemnly and smiled a little, warming Dean’s existence that had been frosted by the recent events. "It is my nature, part of my true shape.“

Why did this shape show right now? What did all of this mean? His mind screamed so many questions, but his mouth didn’t bring them to the surface. What was he doing here? Touching Cas like that? Staring at him like a maniac?

"Awesome,“ Dean replied, suddenly remembering where they were, what they intended to do. That he had a task. He removed his thumb and coughed awkwardly.  
"Now, are you going to tell me where we’re even going?“ Castiel then asked in a businesslike manner, his hand continuing to linger on his shoulder as Dean realized with terror and joy. Dean frowned, pursing his lips into a smile. "We’re going to track Bobby down.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :) 
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr. :)


	16. Night's terrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 16. :)
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Castiel**

The bone-chilling cold ate into Castiel’s skin, making its way with pinpoint accuracy into his innermost being. At night, the temperatures sank lower and lower, as if the weather was adapting to the conditions in the country. If nature usually used unimagined forces that dwarfed anything artificially created, now it was as if forests, rivers and fields had given up.

Spending the night outdoors without a campfire had become unthinkable. Shivering, Castiel pulled his cloak tighter around his body, glanced at the sleeping Dean. In sleep, he seemed level-headed, almost nothing like the often impulsive young man that had almost jumped at his throat more than once.

He still did not understand why some ancient prophecy had chosen Dean of all people to save Taleria from destruction. Undoubtedly, the water roamer possessed courage and enough fierceness to complete the task, for better or worse.

On this journey, their second one, a familiarity had settled between them. Although they had still to fix several issues in their relationships, the trust was there. They had talked much over the last few days and had often spent the better part of the night in front of the fire.

They had eaten, shared stories and most of all they had laughed a lot. Castiel had not anticipated this but he would not change it for anything. It had been a good development. Castiel liked this. He enjoyed witnessing Dean’s kinder and cheekier sides.

Dean hadn’t talked about his father’s death, though, and Castiel wasn’t sure what to make of his silence. Was he suppressing his feelings? Was he angry or sad or desperate or lost?

From the outside, Dean seemed to be normal, but Castiel was not good at reading other’s feelings. Dean also did not talk about the conversation they had led with Rowena. Yes, they talked about it, as it was important for their destination, but Dean didn’t really reveal his thoughts regarding this matter. Moreover, so far, they had waited in vain for abilities to emerge in him that would give them some form of superiority.

Another issue, even more overwhelming for him personally, was what was happening between him and Dean. Without a doubt, something had changed between them over the course of their journey.

Bond or not, they had become companions, almost like friends. They had built a trust that had been the direct result of their experiences and their conversations.

Dean had something about him that had fascinated Castiel from the beginning. His courage, his caring nature, his impulses, his quick-witted responses, his independent thinking, his passion. All of that captured Castiel, more than he ever thought possible.

They did not talk about the bond between them. Although several days had passed, they simply kept quiet about this volatile subject. Castiel didn’t know if it was because Dean was legitimately still mad at him, or if he truly found him loathsome, or if perhaps he was struggling with the confusion as well.

Not for the first time, he puzzled over when they had formed the bond. Whether it had already happened in the forest, at least to some extent? When Dean had seen him in his most vulnerable form? When he had been ready to help him, this abomination? When he had been attracted in some way by Castiel’s veiled Sinalá appearance? Because Castiel knew that much for sure.

Or had it finally happened during the fight with the Harpy? At the moment, Castiel was inclined to at least evaluate this experience as the trigger for the emergence of the wave. Through his intervention and his attempt to heal, something had changed. But how and more importantly - why?

Maybe this bond involved several parts or steps or no precondition at all. Maybe the bond formed because they wanted it to change. However. Dean now carried this wave, this old mark, and Castiel wanted to understand this connection. He wanted to understand how it had come about and how they had chosen it. How they seemed to have chosen each other.

Although Castiel was still happy about the decision to finally leave his tribe behind, he loathed the helplessness he suddenly felt confronted with. The last years had restricted him in his freedom considerably, far too much, to be more precise, but at the same time his life had been structured, had imposed fixed tasks on him.

Until today, he had not been able to come to terms with ending innocent lives, only with the thought of eradicating weaknesses for the common good, he had justified his actions in the red zones.

To use violence for the sake of violence seemed senseless and cruel to him, only helpless and thoughtless people would stoop to such unimaginative methods in his opinion. With Queen Divinae, on the other hand, there was no means, no weapon, that Castiel would not consider.

If greed and ruthlessness had not caused the monarch to become detached to reality over the years, the country would be a different one. People would not be constantly fighting each other, begrudging each other every success; instead, they would be supporting the weak, reviving old alliances.

Whether it was unrealistic to imagine a peaceful country, even to long for it, did not matter to Castiel. At least he imposed his obligation to finally create conditions worth living in. The fact that he also had his fate in mind, additionally pursuing a personal revenge, strengthened his determination even more.

He finally remembered that he had a score to settle with the royal house; neither the queen nor her circle of advisors would be safe from his wrath. He would most like to travel directly to Regnirion, alternately riding and flying, climbing the hill, and riding down all who stood in his way from the gate to the castle.

His former self-discipline had vanished into thin air, his inner calm, these sensations had given way to a whirlwind. In the past, strong emotions had shown themselves subliminally, now they virtually controlled his actions. As new strength grew in him in this way, he did not question this turn of events.

The embers of the campfire were almost completely extinguished, and Castiel added a few more logs. Another long night awaited him, during which he would almost not get a wink of sleep. His sleep had always been restless and not very restful, but since his departure from Bow’s Wreath, he was glad of every moment in which his mind and body regenerated.

Especially given his now liberated Sinalá form, he had to conserve his strength whenever he could. The hard part was hiding his form from Dean. For Castiel had found that at certain moments he had little control over whether, say, his delicate wings or the patterns on his body appeared. It happened in situations which stirred him up, shook his entire being, in which he opened himself.

Until he found out where Dean stood on the taboo subject on the Sinalae people, he couldn’t possibly let him see his form. Besides, here in the woods, with the soldiers nearby, the risk of being discovered was too high. Because of the wings and strong colors and sounds he emitted, his form undoubtedly attracted too much attention.

The moonlight illuminated the otherwise dark forest, reminding Castiel that the world was not yet completely shrouded in darkness. Certainly, his insomnia also went hand in hand with his ongoing distrust. No one who had led his life would welcome the environment with open arms, instead always harboring final reservations.

To remain ready to attack, Castiel rubbed his hands at regular intervals, preventing his freezing hands from firing his bow in time in the event of an attack. Inaction like at this moment caused him to think, something that currently left too many unanswerable questions. Once again, he made sure Dean was slumbering.

Dean looked peaceful. He looked so relaxed, as his face was not riddled with worry lines that he really shouldn’t have at his age. Castiel’s heart involuntarily beat faster. He still enjoyed watching Dean sleep, and at moments he wondered if it was reprehensible how much pleasure he took in it.

He felt sadness. Dean obviously felt no attraction to him apart from the nightly encounter in the forest which must have been caused solely by the mystery of the veil, and Dean’s disgust would only increase at the sight of his true Sinalá form.

Sighing softly, he rose from his cross-legged position.

He benefited from Alastair’s numerous nighttime missions in that his eyes were accustomed to the dark. Thus, he recognized more than ordinary people, moved forward more confidently in the mass of black. Effortlessly he climbed a tree with a broad trunk near their camp, bending up to the crown.

From up here he perceived sounds more clearly, could better distinguish the origins. What he had initially thought were harmless rabbits and badgers now turned out to be human-like creatures, a potential threat. Using his sling rope, he swung to the nearest tree and in this way quickly reached the place where he suspected the humans were.

Although they were sleeping a good half-mile from their resting place, Castiel didn’t want to take any chances. What drove them into the middle of the forests of Silvagion? If the forest visitors were bandits, Castiel needed to calm the horses, wake Dean up, and agree on tactics with him as soon as possible.

If they were harmless wanderers, Castiel could let them go if necessary. He managed to turn a bit on the branch, managed to lie on his stomach and keep his ears closer to the camp.

"I could tell you things,“ a female voice whispered excitedly. "My acquaintance Grela worked diligently all her life, never did anything wrong. Nevertheless, a few weeks ago, warriors from Venachin came and took her away.

Along with other women and children, the soldiers dragged her to the village square, pulling her hair mercilessly, beating her if she didn’t move fast enough. Then the captain shouted so loudly that no one from the houses on the edge of the village could overhear them.“

The woman’s voice died away, and a sob resounded through the forest. Hastily Castiel turned his head, fearing that the woman was attracting dangerous creatures with her sounds of suffering. Unbridled rage spread through him, joining his already full-blown anger at the queen.

What purpose did such displays serve? Did the subordinates of the ruler enjoy it so much to demonstrate their power? Surely, they also wanted to send a signal with such actions, to remind people that they never had to feel safe, always had to be submissive.

Sadness spread through Castiel, and he didn’t know if he should satisfy his curiosity about the end of the story anymore. Every day more horror news was added, meanwhile the subjects did not know true happiness.

The heaviness pressed on his chest, made his breathing difficult. Confused, he took a deep breath - since when did pity for others throw him off so much?

"What happened next?“ an aged male voice asked. Exhaustion resonated in the interlocutor’s words, and Castiel had no doubt that it was not physical fatigue.

"The captain issued an ultimatum. Either all men and youths capable of bearing arms would leave for Venachin within two days to prepare for the onward journey to the capital. Or else-“

Her yelp sounded so pained that Castiel didn’t even need to hear the alternative come out of her mouth. Because nothing else than the killing and imprisonment of all inhabitants could be meant with it.

Silent tears ran down Castiel’s face. Startled, he grabbed his cheeks. When was the last time he had cried this much? He could remember a time in his childhood, but that was many years in the past.

"Then it’s true, another war is upon us,“ the old man murmured. "Although I expected the queen to gather new troops, I didn’t think I would live to see it.“ A clang. Castiel suspected he had knocked over a pot, or otherwise given vent to his despair.

"A war is the best thing that can happen to us,“ a third person interjected. The man could not have been much older than himself, possessing verve long since lost to a man weary of the world. "And you, Landia, are cowardly for having fled instead of accepting this fate.“

This turn of phrase was not palatable to Castiel; perhaps he would have to kill him, or at least tie him up. If he informed the right people about Landia’s and the old man’s displeasure, it would only give the soldiers more reason to look for insurgents - the rebellion could not be discovered under any circumstances.

Feverishly, Castiel struggled with himself, not knowing how to proceed. For the moment, it seemed wisest to him to wait for the conversation to continue.

"Ikur, you cannot be serious. When you joined us earlier, you told us that they set your parents on fire.“ Castiel’s fingers clutched tighter into the branch, wavering between a flight reflex and an urge to learn more about the true situation in his home region.

"They’ve been meeting with sorcerers, talking carelessly in the market about taking in fugitives with them. They were foolish, certainly possessed by evil forces. The soldiers did the right thing to punish them.“

How could someone detest their parents so much? To turn away from them, even though cohesion was essential in these times of need. If the country was now already breaking away from the communities, this gave little cause for hope. Rescue became increasingly difficult the more the inhabitants poisoned their spirits.

"I don’t think we should continue to form a community,“ the old man announced uncompromisingly.

"I would also prefer that we not have to travel with such a heartless beast,“ Landia agreed with him, sealing the deal going forward.

"On this we agree, Woduz,“ Ikur downright spat his words. "You know, our conversation has given me new strength. I should start teaching apostates a lesson right away.“

Castiel knew this tone of voice, knew full well that Ikur would do everything he could to kill Landia and Woduz, perhaps even hoped for a reward from it. Slowly he straightened up again, making sure he could not be overpowered.

"If you didn’t already possess such saggy tits, Landia, I might have fucked you all over.“

Castiel would not tolerate such disgusting behavior. Apparently the inhabitants of Taleria were now dropping all their masks, becoming vile creatures in the face of flimsy promises, overcoming all the good that had once defined them.

Castiel had considerable doubts that Ikur had ever belonged to the good-natured sort of man. Careful and fastidious not to make any noise, Castiel climbed back down.

He then crept to the travelers‘ camp, where - judging by the volume - a scuffle was in full swing. Quickly, he sprinted the last bit, orienting himself by the light of the fire he could make out through the trees and bushes.

Ikur had attacked Woduz first, stabbing the old man’s legs and stomach with a rusty knife. The latter kicked out, bickering and spinning wildly back and forth, but purely in terms of strength he had no chance.

A few steps away lay Landia, who had presumably tried to intervene but had then been flung away by Ikur. Castiel’s ears rustled, and he reached for his bow. Despite his sweaty hands, he was able to position two arrows on the string.

Once he had his target firmly in sight, he completely blanked out everything around him. Then everything happened rapidly. The arrows stuck in Ikur’s throat, and with a gasp, he sank to the side.

At the same moment an animal jumped out of the bushes - a sapphire panther. Stronger and faster than normal panthers, their namesake eyes bound their victims more tightly than ropes could.

He was right behind Woduz; he couldn’t shoot an arrow without injuring or even killing him as well. "Close your eyes,“ Castiel shouted directed at the old man.

Since Landia was still out of action anyway, Castiel had to keep an eye on Woduz’s movements more than anything else. The sapphire panther stood on its hind legs, bringing itself into an attack posture.

With a loud snarl, it immediately demonstrated who was in the more powerful position. Attracted by Ikur’s blood, the black animal stalked up to his corpse. Since it had not been detected so far, Castiel could still approach it from another direction.

Suddenly, he heard a bloodcurdling scream - Landia had woken up. The panther immediately jumped to her and before Castiel could warn her, its claws tore open her throat. Next thing he knew, the beast was nibbling on her arm, biting off a large chunk of flesh. No, this could not happen.

The urge to scream was overpowering, but Castiel couldn’t draw the wildcat’s attention unnecessarily. Perhaps the panther would feast on Landia’s flesh first, and leave Woduz alone. Trembling, he jumped out of the bushes and shot at the panther, but it didn’t even flinch.

The next shot missed the animal completely, and Castiel feverishly rummaged in his memory what was effective against these wild animals. Meanwhile, the panther sniffed the ground, then approached the pile of people.

Out of sheer desperation, Castiel shot two more arrows, but now had no hope that they could harm the animal at all. With the knife in his hand, he rushed up to the panther while throwing a dagger into its back with the other. At least it yelped briefly, but did not interrupt its gorging noises.

Meanwhile, Castiel felt something change inside him. The adrenaline and the emotions - somehow they triggered something deep in his Sinalá being. He felt stronger, so much stronger, almost flooded with magic. He heard sounds, felt that strange glow settle over him again, that colors were developing beside him. It was wonderful. With this new energy within him, he continued to approach the panther.

Woduz was apparently playing dead which was the only way Castiel could explain the panther not killing him first. The sapphire panther’s urge to hunt was enormous, throbbing blood increased their hunger immeasurably.

His attacks had somehow tangentially affected the sapphire panther after all, because it now turned to him, leaping to him with a mighty leap.

Without thinking any longer, Castiel now threw his knife as well. The knife flew through the air, and only now Castiel was amazed to realize that his knife was on fire.

Moreover, flames were rising from his hands, growing larger and larger, radiating more and more heat. The flames did not hurt him, rather it was as if they were purifying him. They were part of him.

Despite his precarious position, he had scored a lucky hit, something heavy slumped to the ground. Relieved, Castiel opened his eyes again, immediately ran to Woduz.

"Thank you, lad,“ the old man whispered weakened. "For Ikur, too.“ A smile spread across his face. Only now did Castiel see the huge flesh wound in his torso; the panther must have grazed him with its claw while eating Ikur.

"Wait, I will take you to my camp, I can heal you there,“ Castiel tried to reassure the man. Inexperienced in encouraging gestures, he looked the man in the eye.

"No need,“ Woduz replied and coughed, then closed his eyes forever.  
"No!“ Castiel shouted, throwing himself on the ground. He pounded the earth with his fists, unable to believe what had happened here.

He never failed, at least not in a situation like this, which he had handled so many times before similarly. In a final act of mental clarity, he dragged the lifeless bodies to the campfire. He had to burn them, or the blood would attract more wild creatures.

On the way back to camp, he fought back tears. When his lips did taste salty, he cursed his inability. What was wrong with him? He could have made it, should have emerged victorious from the situation.

Only when he reached the camp did he slowly collect himself. Dean sighed in his sleep and was on the verge to wake up, probably startled from Castiel’s rustling.

"Castiel, what’s wrong?“ Dean muttered sleepily, straightening up slightly. Then he proved to Castiel that he was more alert than he sometimes gave him credit for in confrontations - he registered the blood on his clothes, his face. "Were you hunting? In the middle of the night?“

"Yes, tomorrow we will eat hare,“ he said in his usual cool voice. Soon, he would have to kill another hare. Castiel sank shivering against the nearest tree, trying to control his breathing.

Dean growled, and meanwhile had straightened up completely. A few times he ran his hand through his hair in his usual manner before shaking his head.

Castiel felt like he was going to throw up. Before his eyes, his surroundings blurred more and more.

Still, Castiel fixed Dean with his gaze, knowing that the sight of Dean calmed him. For whatever reason. He calmed him, he gave him inner peace, and some kind of happiness. Even though he didn’t know what it meant, even though he knew Dean would hate him for it, he gave himself to this source of reassurance.

"I’m not stupid,“ Dean barked. "Don’t mess with me. Don’t lie to me. You don’t have to tell me all your secrets but you gotta stop lying to my face.“

Dean threw the pot away, boxed the floor, ripped some branches apart, cursed some more. Yelled into the night. Castiel had to think. He couldn’t think because Dean screamed and screamed, and his screams disturbed him. Not because he hated them but because he could not bear them.

With every cry, Castiel’s body trembled uncontrollably. With every cry, his mind spun. With every cry, he gritted his teeth more. With every cry, his hands clenched tighter. With every cry, his heart ached. With every cry, his innermost being yearned.

And Castiel couldn’t stand this. The conflicting emotions. Not after the fight he had just witnessed and participated in. Not with the worry he felt towards Dean. He had to do something.

Castiel wanted them to become closer not to drift further apart. And so he did the only thing he could think of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will also be Cas's POV. I will upload it later today or tomorrow (February 17). :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)


	17. The flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 17. :) This chapter purely consists of Cas/Dean interactions since many things are hanging in the air. :)
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Castiel**

Castiel rushed to Dean who looked more lost than angry now. Without thinking and only with a quick glance into Dean’s wild eyes, Castiel hugged Dean. Naturally, he was aware he was taking a risk here, but it was the thing that had calmed both of them in the place of hope. Therefore, Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean like the other had done in the forest to comfort him.

By doing so, he tried to imitate Dean’s initiation and his gestures and the way his hands had moved. Cautiously, Castiel stroked the lower part of Dean’s back.

Automatically his hands wandered higher and higher. After a while Castiel realized he had touched the spot where the mark was with special tenderness and care. Without intent. He noticed Dean sighing softly, nothing else.

Dean’s scent was special. Castiel had always liked it in a way, but it was different now. Since he had rebelled, he smelled everything more acutely. The sea, the earth, the mesmerizing hints of lemon. He couldn’t get enough of it. Dean did not push him away, however he did not lean into the touch. Castiel felt hurt.

Immediately, he backed away from him, trying to calm himself. The attempt of comforting Dean had definitely not worked out. At all.

Castiel knew Dean felt a lot of rage, in general, and sometimes he had to let it out. He had learned this so far.

They were at a turning point. Castiel felt it. The current situation could escalate quickly. Either they would talk this through or they would make everything worse. Or they would do another thing uncalled-for as they often tended to do. Castiel decided for a diplomatic approach.

“I feel fine. See. Better already.“

As if to prove his point, Castiel lifted both hands over his head and made some spontaneous movements. He didn’t know what he wanted to accomplish here. Naturally, he was not shaking anymore, however he felt with his entire being that he looked shaken up and damaged.

Dean had been experienced many overwhelming things, had learned many terrifying truths over a short amount of time. It seemed natural for him to react this way. Letting his body speak since his mouth didn’t know how to articulate.

Castiel ignored the inner voice that told him he had also gone through a lot. Maybe Castiel would feel better when he could ease Dean’s pain. He knew this wasn’t how feelings worked, but he wanted to try, regardless.

"I don’t want to fight today, Dean,“ Castiel murmured, raising his hands.  
"No? Well, I don’t care, okay? You always run off at night. Do you really think I don’t notice? What are you doing all the time? You’re supposed to rest. And I don’t like it.“

"What?“ Castiel hissed indignantly. "Me wanting to find tranquility because my body and mind are in constant turmoil? Me not wanting to disturb you with my true shape? Me trying to understand why I feel drawn to you of all people since the very beginning? Me wanting to get closer to you despite or because of the bond? What is it that you detest so much?“

Dean looked at him, mouth open.  
"That’s not what I meant. You gotta know that. You- you’re just so selfish with your independence crap. You could at least tell me when you leave. I hate waking up and being afraid something happened to you. I don’t like being worried. I care too much. I feel like a failure. And we still have no frigging clue as to your nature and the threats and the damn mission we’re about to settle and our special bond and whatever.“

"Really? That’s how you approach this topic? After days and days of dancing around it? We are better now. We don’t have to fight all the time. We are a companionship.“  
"Oh, please don’t start with the bond now. I’m not in the mood to talk this through.“

"Dean, that’s not a matter of discussion for we are-“  
"Connected. Yeah, got it. I’m the one who was hallmarked, remember?“ Dean hissed, not looking at Castiel. And now he moved around without any order, so fast that Castiel could barely follow his movements.

"I’ve no idea what to make of it. I mean, sure, we both feel there’s something there. I feel it all the time, especially when there are touches involved. But- What of all this crap is even real? How are we gonna figure this out? And oh, I’m obliged to find a woman soon. Not that this will even matter, now that I’m supposed to save Taleria and the queen is more interested in capturing or killing me than making sure I reproduce. A nice marriage wouldn’t really fit in there, huh?“ Dean had talked himself into a frenzy, and Castiel felt so utterly confused.

"Dean, you’re not making any sense,“ Castiel replied, thinking about crying and fighting and running away and running to Dean simultaneously.

"I can assure you that I have never felt better. I am free because of you. And we did choose this way. We did. The mark appeared when we already knew each other. I’m rather sure we caused the bond by our own accord, influenced it. So you ask me what is real? We are. There can’t be a doubt about that.“

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever.“ Dean turned around, apparently wanting to leave.

"Dean!“ Castiel yelled, more loudly than he had intended. "Dean!“ he pleaded. Dean paused, his shoulders trembling.

"We don’t have to discuss everything all at once, but you should talk more. I think. Much has happened. Your father-“

"Don’t fucking mention him“ Dean barked, spitting on the ground. "It’s fine. The world’s better without him.“ Dean blinked and his eyes pierced through him.  
"That might be the truth but you don’t feel this way. Or only partly. You are clearly conflicted. Maybe it would help if you told me about your issues with him.“

"Cas, this isn’t some kind of counseling or talking your feelings through. That’s not how life works. I know death, okay? My mom was killed when I was barely an adult. Tell you what. I was a mess after that. A mess. I was full of rage. I wanted to revenge her. Well, boo-hoo. Didn’t help at all. I was in a shithole. This happens when feelings get the better off you. When you let 'em weaken you. Ya hear me? I do feel. All the time. And I don’t want 'em to have this power over me.

I wish it’d be different, sometimes. Truth is, it defines me. Crap, I’m driven by emotions. They are what keep me going. But right now, I can’t think about that stuff. I can’t. I just can’t. And I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this. I’ve no idea where this is coming from. I just feel so raw with you. All the time.“ He trembled and Castiel approached him.

"Let’s not talk about me. I have no frigging clue. I might destroy all Taleria, make everything worse. Cause that’s what I do. Try to make things better, sacrificing and fighting, then ruining it.“ He cleared his throat, avoiding his gaze once more. Then he looked daggers at him. "Don’t change the topic, man. You think I don’t notice?“

After a few more similar actions Dean finally took a deep breath. He massaged his temples.

"Cas, we’ve talked about this. You’re different. You’re only partly human. Something happened to you. Okay. I get that, and we’ll look into it. But I swear, you gotta talk to me, man. Otherwise- How’s this supposed to work? What are you even thinking? That’s not- I frigging hate this.“

Dean stretched himself, blinking repeatedly, apparently about to expel the drowsiness.

Castiel wanted to reason with him, wanted to yell at him, wanted to rebuke him, wanted to retort something snarky, but he couldn’t. He was at the end of his rope.

Dean cleared his throat sharply, and only subliminally did Castiel perceive that he had approached him.

In fact, he stood right in front of him, their bodies were only inches apart. Only now did Castiel notice that Dean carried a bowl with water, looking at Castiel, hesitating.

Castiel nodded, and Dean started cleaning his face. With the cloth he wiped thoroughly but immensely tenderly over his skin. He was in the process of removing the dried blood from his face, the dried blood of the dead, now marking him as a failure, he added in his mind.

Something inside him screamed that it wasn’t right, that he was being cleansed of it, on the other hand his body felt so drained, so weak. He needed this.

Rest. Warmth. Touch.

While Dean cleaned his face, his eyes never left his face. It felt good to be looked at so intensely, at least now Castiel felt that way. Dean looked serious, almost grim, and only let go of his face to moisten the cloth once more. To use clean water.

Then Dean stopped what he was doing, took a step back and eyed Castiel. Patterned him as if that long look could give him answers. Answers to the existential questions of existence. The questions between them.

"What the heck happened, man? And don’t dare telling me anything about hunting hares. That’s the lamest excuse you could’ve come up with. I just asked that because I was half-asleep. Frigging tell me.“

The longer Dean had spoken, the raspier his voice had become. The corners of his mouth formed a line, and Dean looked disgruntled. Downright frustrated.

"I was hunting,“ Castiel contradicted him, and Dean rolled his eyes. Then he threw his arms in the air and kicked a few rocks away. "A sapphire panther,“ Castiel added quietly.

Dean looked at him in disbelief. "You okay?“ Was Dean worried about him?

Briefly, Castiel described to him what had happened. There was no point in trying to hide what had happened from Dean. "Your entire body’s shaking, pal.“  
"I am cold.“

"I think you’re under shock or something. And it is cold. You- I think we should-“ Dean paused.

Castiel cocked his head to the side. "What?“

"Sleep together?“ Dean’s suggestion sounded very much like a question, much as if he didn’t think it was real until now that he’d said it.

Dean lowered his gaze, and tapped his foot on the floor, apparently undecided himself as to what he had just said here. "For the body heat, obviously,“ he muttered.

"I’m not certain,“ Castiel said, fearing all sorts of unwanted reactions from his body. That Dean even suggested such an action surprised and confused him.

Meanwhile, Dean had sunk to the ground again, snuggling under the blanket.

Dean smirked and raised his eyebrows. "Now come on over here. You’ll freeze to death.“

"It’s spring, it shouldn’t be freezing at night.“  
"Nothing’s the same anymore. Would you come here now? I want to sleep.“

Castiel crawled closer to him, laying down right next to Dean. Dean sighed softly before wrapping his blanket around him and Castiel, pressing himself against Castiel from behind.

A flutter instantly spread through Castiel’s stomach, and it felt like something they should have done long ago.

Suddenly, he felt warm, he felt warmer than he’d felt in his entire life. Now, he felt another flame grow in him. This flame was not for destruction or for defending himself or for fighting purposes. It was just a feeling.

It was hope, Castiel realized. Some kind of happiness, perhaps.

Castiel had to learn how to interpret his feelings, he wanted to. Maybe Dean could show him, a voice whispered inside his mind. Where did this voice come from all of a sudden?

What an absurd thought. Castiel felt so confused. He sighed softly, and snuggled closer to Dean, letting himself sink deeper into his embrace. And it felt good.

"Cas?“ Dean asked, and it surprised Castiel how velvety his voice sounded.  
"Yes?“

"I don’t wanna alarm you, but-“ Castiel felt Dean’s breath on his neck, so pleasantly warm and soothing. "You’re glowing. Again. I mean, there’s this shimmer all over you.“

Castiel shifted back and forth uneasily because this really wasn’t anything he’d hoped for this moment.

"Cas?“ Again, Dean’s voice sounded so incredibly soft, and Castiel couldn’t handle it.

On the one hand, he was completely unfamiliar with gestures like that, physical closeness, and on the other hand, he couldn’t accept that kindness, that gentleness, not after experiencing all that violence and practicing it himself. Not after he was still searching for his true self. His identity. And yet, he found that he felt more at home in Dean’s arms than anywhere else.

"I’m aware.“  
"Huh.“

Sighing, Castiel turned in Dean’s embrace so that he could look Dean in the eye. Although the campfire was their foreground source of light, he saw Dean as clearly as he did in daylight. For a moment Castiel averted his gaze, looking down at himself. Yes, he was indeed glowing.

Again, a tremor spread through his body, this time definitely not from the cold or any kind of shock. As soon as he lifted his gaze, Dean’s eyes caught him. He looked at him, so intensely that Castiel felt dizzy.

"I think- I get it now. The things you did, why you did 'em,“ Dean muttered, licking his lips. "I’m glad you chose this path. That you rebelled. I can’t grasp this. But I believe you. I-you gotta give me time. This prophecy thing, the bond. My dad. I mean, he was an asshole and I think I distanced myself from him a long time ago. Still.“  
"I understand,“ Castiel said softly, smiling a little.

Suddenly Castiel felt Dean’s hands cradling his face. His fingers stroked his cheeks, his neck, his nape. Dean sighed, looked at Castiel, sighed again, and with a jerky, though not rough movement, Dean pulled Castiel to him. Their legs intertwined.

"It was you. The encounter in the forest. Right?“ Dean whispered as his hands stroked Castiel’s torso. Devoutly, as if to catch the glow and the colors with his hands.

"Yes. You remember,“ Castiel murmured, unable to hide the joy in his voice.

"I always remembered. You’re kinda hard to forget, shimmer boy,“ Dean said, winking at him. "Just didn’t realize it was you. And oh, you veiled yourself from me. Duh.“

Then he continued to stroke his torso, over every single part. His arms. His face. His chest again. His back. At the same time he hummed, grinned slightly, almost embarrassed.

"That okay?“  
"Very much so.“

"I figured as much. I think providing warmth might be another of my hidden talents.“

Of course. That was what they were doing here. Warming each other. Nothing more, nothing less. Why did that remark disappoint Castiel?

Dean laughed, and the laughter immediately entered Castiel’s pores. Castiel moved his hands, which had been stiff beside his body until now, interlocking them behind Dean’s back. They continued to look at each other, and Castiel thought it was okay for now not to pretend he wasn’t aware that their extended eye contact wasn’t a standard gesture.

There was so much that was unspoken between them. There was so much Castiel didn’t understand. He didn’t understand what this moment between them meant. Whether warming each other was supposed to feel like this. Whether all people did this while traveling.

He hadn’t experienced anything like this before. Castiel remembered what Dean had told him about companionship, and apparently companions did these things. It was not unusual, it didn’t mean anything.

Castiel moved even closer to Dean, who drew in a sharp breath. He turned so that Dean was behind him again, encircling him with his arms. Dean’s body was behind his, the gentle pressure of his arms nestled against his. Castiel wished involuntarily that he would freeze even more often. Maybe Dean would make that suggestion again.

He leaned against Dean’s upper body, inhaling his scent. This time he did not scold himself inwardly, instead, he tried to smell Dean better. He could enjoy this, the decided. For tonight. He didn’t understand any of this, but for tonight he did not care.

"I do feel warm now,“ Castiel confirmed, whereupon Dean chuckled.

"Yeah, I bet you do.“ He laughed lustily while moving their bodies and simultaneously pressing closer into him.

His laugh vibrated against his skin, so full of life and wonder and Dean.

Castiel felt goosebumps all over his body. He didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to leave this position, he didn’t want Dean to let go off him.

What was happening to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well - that escalated quickly. :) 
> 
> I'm @dean-and-cas-at-the-sea on Tumblr.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)


	18. Royal affairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 18! :)
> 
> This one's from Crowley's POV since there are some matters that need to be addressed for the plot. Next chapter will follow Dean's and Castiel's journey again. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Crowley**

Yawning, Crowley rubbed his eyes, using this moment to think alone for a moment. It was late morning, and soon he would have to go to Queen Divinae. He would nip any rebellion of the citizens against the future course of action in the bud - by force if necessary.

Failure was not an option, not this time. Too much was at stake, nothing less than the future of Taleria and Crowley’s personal fate. Ignoring the nagging voice in his head, he stretched his limbs. The events of the last few days gripped him to the marrow.

One council meeting had followed the next, and the advisors, as might be expected, had failed to reach a unanimous conclusion. Although the supreme voting power rested with the queen, she had long ceased to be of any real help to them in these matters.

In the past, Crowley - like all the inhabitants of Taleria - had believed that the preservation of power was her overriding goal, but her constant outbursts now taught him otherwise. The monarch was gripped by a bloodcurdling fear.

She was ruler of the country, but no longer of her senses. Unpredictably, she made decision after decision, and maneuvered herself into a spiral. She was lucky that he was in charge of the affairs of the kingdom, of the finances and the military. And now he was faced with another momentous decision.

Most of the servants had celebrated merrily the previous evening, feasting on food and drinks. Crowley, on the other hand, had gone to bed early to keep a clear head for today’s talk with the queen.

His drive caused him to walk in circles through his chambers again and again. It was useless to try to bring about events in too much of a hurry.

Prudence and planning were his closest allies. How long had he been waiting for this day? What were a few more weeks or months? A penetrating knock interrupted his thoughts.

"My Lord, are you presentable?“ his maid Bela asked again. From behind the door, her voice echoed politely to him, but he knew she was impatient.

The first time he had ignored her, making her believe with an exaggerated snore that he was still sound asleep. Yet, he had been awake for hours, laying out the most tactically intelligent words. Given the advanced hour, he could no longer lead her on a merry chase, but he could still spare a few minutes.

"You may enter,“ Crowley called as he rose from his chair and carelessly threw on a robe. Then he strode to the desk, finally signing the document he had brooded over for two days.

Where was his damned seal stamp? In the afternoon, he desperately needed to put things in order. There was another knock, and Crowley grinned. The maid had manners, he had to admit.

Slowly the door opened, and Bela’s head peeked out from behind it. Hearing no protest from him, she dared to enter completely.

Although she must have gotten up in the middle of the night, she looked very well-groomed, as usual, and had primped herself. Her hair was braided which emphasized her rosy cheeks. She cleared her throat and plodded into his washroom with a couple of fresh towels.

"Your Lordship, you must dress. Her Majesty is expecting you soon. I can help you if you wish.“ In his opinion, one of the great disadvantages of court life was that eager servants did too much mundane work for their masters.

There was a great danger of becoming completely dependent at some point. If this happened, there was not much left before brain calcification.

"I can put on my clothes, Bela. How many times do I have to tell you?“ Crowley harshly reprimanded his servant. The young woman gasped and teetered on her feet, her braid which reached almost to her belly bobbing back and forth. Such a petite creature.

"Please excuse me.“ Startled like a deer, she glared at him out of her big eyes, curtsied, and continued walking toward the door.

"Wait.“ Jerking to a halt in her movement, she turned on her heel. "Yes, my Lord?“ Normally, this obtuse obsequiousness would have caused him to roll his eyes, but he pulled himself together. Without focus, all of today’s conversations would be doomed.  
"Say, how old are you, Bela?“ Of course, he knew the answer, as he was aware of the background information and circumstances of all his servants and soldiers.

Faced with this unexpected question, Bela frowned. "Twenty-two, my lord.“ Young was the maid compared to the older inhabitants of the land, and yet she had been employed at the court since her early youth. "You are industrious, a dear little dove.“

Joy flitted across her face for a tiny moment, then she put on her rehearsed mask again. "Thank you, my Lord.“ And once again it surprised him how disciplined the servants of the royal court behaved. No doubt existential fears resonated in them, but many knew only this life. They were grateful, in most cases helping the entire family with their income.

Crowley had learned in early adulthood that obedience and efficiency got him further than his previous defensiveness. Bela’s puzzled expression reminded him to resume the conversation.

"And tell me, how many maids do you think are employed at court?“

Her eyes filled with tears, but at the same time there was something else in them: provocation. Interesting. "I don’t know, my Lord.“

Although he had deliberately provoked the outburst, this sentimentalism annoyed him. "Maybe to the hundred?“ Instead of answering her, he took a few steps closer. "So. Let’s assume there are actually a hundred.“

He didn’t know the exact number himself, it didn’t matter in principle. He stroked a strand from her forehead that had come loose from her braid. Immediately her breath quickened, she moistened her lips. This time he had to force himself to break his gaze.

"Don’t you think it would be appropriate for you, who represent one percent of these maids, not to walk so hunched? Stretch your back more? Mmm?“

Blush rose in her cheeks. Were ambiguous thoughts coming to her? She opened her mouth to say something, but then just smiled far too innocently. He sighed.

"Bela, what I’m trying to say is: you started here as a kitchen help. Back then, you were a bony, battered, shivering mess.“ She swallowed hard and her breath fluttered. "You remember that?“

Again he was silent, traveling back in his mind to an evening 6 years ago. At that time, a celebration had taken place in honor of an influential prince - the current husband of the princess. Since some food had reached the tables only lukewarm, Crowley had stormed into the kitchen in a rage afterwards. The speech had not missed its effect.

All the kitchen helpers had slumped down, looking at the floor in embarrassment - and yet only young Bela had caught his eye. Despite her trembling hands, the tears that had run down her cheeks, she had washed pots and pans with clenched teeth. When he had needed a new maid a few months later, the choice had not been difficult. At that time, her entire demeanor had changed since she had gained more confidence and wit.

"Yes, my splendid memory is one of my best qualities,“ he replied with a grin. "But my Lord, you have many good qualities. You are eloquent, powerful, fearless, and you are visually alone a good catch for-“

Perplexed, he eyed the young woman. This was the first time she had said anything of her own accord, not just responded to his words or simply gone about her duties. He had always known that there was more under her façade. That she often feigned innocence, slipping into that role because it was so expected of her. In reality, her appearance revealed that she knew how to defend herself.

He passed over her objection, looked at her seriously. By now he was so close to her that his upper body touched hers. Her plump breasts nestled so naturally against his bare skin. In order not to show any outward reaction to their physical contact, he appraised her seriously.

"From now on you will appear more confident, and defend yourself against hostility. Do not think that I am unaware of the taunts and slaps of your roommates. As my maid, you also represent me as my right hand. That’s an order, understand?“

Eager nods followed, and Crowley nodded with satisfaction. "Good, you’re one of the honest souls here at court, Dove. I like that.“

Now she smiled at him as broadly as if he were the sun himself. If he were a better man, he would have felt remorse. Never would he treat her as her kind-hearted nature deserved.

"My father arranged an engagement for my fifteenth birthday. The man quickly turned out to be an absolute monster who...well, anyway, I broke the engagement, a scandal in the family, and immediately presented myself at the castle.“ She slapped her hand over her mouth. "Please forgive me, I just wanted you to understand why I was so grateful to you at the time.“

Crowley brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "You deserve better.“ That comment could refer to her fiancé as well as him, he realized. Why he’d felt this strange displacement between them since their interlude, he didn’t know, but he wanted to comfort her. No one needed to know that he could be kind, too. He couldn’t bear to see her in pain. What could he say?

"I’m going to tell you a secret. But you can’t tell anyone.“ His voice sounded threatening again, and he relaxed his features. Bela nodded. "Arranged marriages can sometimes make sense, but in the rarest of cases happiness comes from them. For those who get engaged or even married without really knowing the other person are left hurt or angry.“

"Your love was not returned?“ asked Bela softly. Crowley did not respond, but stroked his index finger along her neck to her cleavage.

"What am I going to do with you, darling?“ murmured Crowley in a velvety voice. Immediately she reached out to him. He wondered if she knew how to distract him. It would be so easy to lower his lips to hers, to explore her entire body with his hands and tongue, to show her how she should be treated.

What irony of fate he was experiencing with her, when he was the one who enchanted others. At this thought, he grimaced, for he truly did not know such a side of himself yet.

"I never loved her,“ Crowley clarified. "And she played me and ultimately both disappointed and angered me. But that was a long time ago,“ he added to his remarks, ending the strangely familiar moment between them.

"My Lord, how old are you really? You look to be thirty, but so many tales exist about you.“

"I think we’ll save that topic for another day, or better, evening.“ His undertone didn’t escape her, judging by appearances, because she was looking at him so damn delightfully again.

"My Lord, may I speak?“  
"I press my upper body against yours. The only way our situation would be even more intimate would be if we were naked while doing it,“ he replied dryly.

If he had expected her to blush or stare at that comment, he was now proved wrong, for she merely looked at him curiously. "That was a yes, in case you’re still waiting for an invitation,“ he added mockingly.

"I don’t know if you still remember. About two years ago, you returned from a boar hunt with the Prince of Silvagion. On the way, you had encountered an Endless Maw. You were badly wounded and could barely stand on your feet. I bathed you, cleaned your wounds.“

Images flickered before his inner eye, had burned themselves onto his retina. In fact, he remembered his accident well. She had left unmentioned that in his weakness he had hungrily pounced on her the next morning. She had willingly offered her body to him, rearing up under him and wrapping herself around his waist most deftly. It was the first and only time he had ever gotten involved with a servant.

Because of his fever, some moments of that encounter were a blur, and often he wished he could fill in those blanks. He raised his eyebrows in wonder. "You take my instruction directly at its word,“ Crowley stated matter-of-factly. "Yet I do not require such services from you.“

Even if he found her attractive and would like to have sex with her - what would it change? "Oh, that wouldn’t be a duty for me, a pleasure rather,“ Bela contradicted him with a smile. At this she looked so exaggeratedly innocent, so deliberately sincere, that he could only snort.

"You know I can’t neglect my duties,“ he drove at her coldly.

"Of course, you must monitor the progress of the spell, and organize the army of dragons. I-“ Hastily, Crowley pressed his hand over her mouth.  
"Dove, you know too much. The walls have ears. Not another word about it.“ A frustrated sigh escaped him.

"I only think I can be of use to you. I can also escort you to the villa, I know the way.“ With a loud rumble they crashed into the wall, his loins digging into her abdomen. Only his anger prevented his body from responding to her stimuli.

"This isn’t entertainment anymore, Bela. If you think I condone espionage, or allow you to act up with me, you’re sorely mistaken. Snooping around here is no part of your job description.“ Shouting out his anger overshadowed his despair that she had knowledge of what he was up to.

"No one knows about it, I only suspected it myself. While cleaning, I noticed the symbol on a document. Since there has been a travel bag of clothes in the next room for several days, I merely concluded-“

"Stop that,“ he hissed at her. "Normally, I’d have to cut out your tongue and have you thrown outside the castle gates.“

Her eyes filled with tears of rage, but she only sniffled, looking at him impassively. "I am aware of that, my Lord. Rest assured that I never interfere in the affairs of others, but I was worried because-“

That she defended herself at all astonished Crowley. Basically, she was harmless, had not actively wanted to harm him. She wouldn’t have found out what the documents about the manor house meant anyway, the old language made sure of that. Still - what was she up to?

"Your motives are completely irrelevant to this incident,“ Crowley nipped her wild explanations in the bud right away and detached his body from her. "I do not forgive disobedience, either you follow my orders or you suffer the consequences. You have never been guilty of anything, so I will give you one last chance.“

Slowly he walked to the large chest that stood under his desk. Taking a small vial, he returned to it. "Drink this,“ he instructed her coldly. Her hand swayed the vial back and forth, smelling it as if she could define through the glass what substance it was.

"What is it?“ asked Bela, without showing any emotion, whereupon Crowley only rolled his eyes. "Whether it’s poison or not is something you’ll have to find out for yourself; it’s your choice how to proceed with your work.“

Without dismounting, she drained the dark blue liquid. "Tastes sweet,“ she murmured, licking her lips with her tongue. He was only a blink away from taking her in his arms after all, but that would be the foolish thing to do at that moment.

Testily, Bela raised her arms, feeling her body with all her fingers. "I feel unchanged.“ Whether disappointment or joy spoke from her, he was unable to define. "It is a potion that will prevent you from speaking of my secret to anyone. Any violation will give you an obnoxious rash that you won’t be able to get rid of without an antidote.“

Loyalty could not be forced with this remedy, only traitors could be unmasked. Apart from a gulp, she showed no movement, walked a few steps and stopped right in front of him.

Warmth and defiance shone at him from her eyes as she stroked his cheek for the breath of a moment. "Everyone says how ruthless you are, but you have never been spiteful to me.“

Rudely he pushed her from him and stared into her eyes. "You are mistaken,“ he hissed now. "I am even more wicked than people describe me. Now go.“

***  
He had to cover a long distance to reach the throne room, a hardship he gladly accepted for the beautiful location of his chambers. Before he set off, he stepped out onto the balcony, as he always did, and took one last look into the distance. Here - on the highest tower of the east wing - he was rewarded with a unique view of the extensive wheat and corn fields and the river.

Although he did not place any increased value on nature, the beauty of the lands could not be denied. Sighing, he finally closed the door behind him, and with a curt nod said goodbye to the two guards. The deeper he descended, the higher the ceilings became. The corridors were largely empty, most of the servants busy in their rooms, at the courtyard, or in the kitchen. The silence only helped his concentration, sharpened his senses.

Today he was a different man than before, a stronger personality. Never again would he enter into agreements lightly, or even be deceived. For years, not a day went by without him repeating one sentence aloud as a mantra, morning and evening: _The water is poison._

He had had to make many sacrifices for this goal. The brute force exerted by the elf soldiers was not only noticed by the people. Crowley’s promises, the announced treasures and lands had made the once humble warriors go mad. It was as if their noses were already sniffing the coming glory and purity of gold. That, and the fact that they were now sticking their noses up, had earned them their nickname, Pure Noses.

The elf soldiers were just one example of the incidents and changes Crowley was responsible for. He traded peace for war so that he could in turn create peace - this irony did not escape him at all.

While the queen remained involved in all the proceedings, she had too many concerns of her own. Of a personal nature. Crowley snorted contemptuously, having long sworn off any intimate ties. This allowed him to focus entirely on his task.

Six soldiers stood outside the throne room, with a few more standing in the hallway. The men showed almost no movement, letting him enter after a brief glance. Hurriedly, Crowley approached the throne, and immediately caught the queen’s gaze.  
The queen was still in a conversation with the cupbearer, who was surely about to propose another banquet to her. The next week various representatives from Silvagion were coming to visit, that was again an occasion for another time.

"We’re done for the day then,“ Queen Divinae interrupted the never-ending chatter. The rotund man bowed, and waddled away.

"Crowley, you promised me solutions. I’m all ears.“ Obviously, the queen wanted to get straight to the point. It would be best if he started with the bad news, since that way they could quickly move on to other topics.

"The young water roamer is still untraceable. He was not among those present at the attack on Gurgling Steep. The elves are scouring the land, and I have also hired mercenaries. If you wish, I will also notify the Wolf Claws.“

The bandits had risen rapidly in the queen’s esteem once she learned that they traded in hearts. Since their ruler was not so bright on any other subject, an expansion of their trade relations was even on the horizon at the moment.

"Do what is necessary as long as you find this brat. This is the highest priority. Crowley, he must not find this portal under any circumstances.“

He agreed with her unreservedly on that, though for reasons he would not explain. Besides, finding the portal was the least of the difficulties; after all, Crowley had been there himself, knew the local lay of the land. Opening it, on the other hand, was all the more problematic, a knowledge he lacked. He would prefer not to have to make the long journey to the portal again.

"All right.“ His posture remained upright, he would not start groveling before her like the other cockroaches of her household. "It’s only a matter of time, our scouts and agents are everywhere. Besides, he’s so young, doesn’t know anything about the world.“

"If I remember correctly, he was capable enough to escape from a perfectly safe and well-guarded cell. So spare me your appeasements.“ As so often, she blamed him for all shortcomings, as if he were one person in several guises.

"His grandfather must have left some clue. It would be enough for us if we could get hold of that.“

"I’m not interested in the details,“ the queen waved off. "I want to see results.“ What else? Maybe he should have just taken Bela up on her offer and canceled the meeting. He curled his lips in annoyance at his display of cynicism. Crowley was merely tired of the Queen’s accusations, but still wanted to live up to his position.

"I am aware of that, your Majesty, yet I must speak plainly to you.“ He clasped his hands, watching her reaction. Fortunately, she motioned for him to continue. "My queen, I know you prefer the safety of the castle. But circumstances call for an offensive. We cannot assume that the Glaciens will forever shrink from another attack.“ Deliberately, he kept his voice level calm, even though they had discussed this topic countless times.

"I don’t see it that way. They remember well how their attempt at revenge turned out. They are afraid.“ Indeed, the Glaciens lived in constant fear. Numerically, they were far outnumbered by the queen’s forces. All the inhabitants of Glaciria combined did not approach army size available to the royal house. The Nuvolin lived in seclusion, enjoying the isolation and solitude of the snow-capped mountains.

"My scouts tell me that there are smaller associations - mainly dwarves from Wanograd - who are not afraid to point out grievances. Who want to arm themselves, and move to action.“ The queen acknowledged his remarks with a loud hiss. "And what success shall such associations have? I ask you.“

Empty of content and incendiary counter-questions - that’s all the substance Crowley received lately. "You forget that these are not the only riots. We should at least have respect for the total sum. If these groups even form into one, we’ll soon find ourselves facing more attackers than we can handle.“ Now the queen yawned, looking away from him with disinterest.

How could she remain so indifferent? They had to develop strategies, at least be prepared for such eventualities. Fear still dominated among the general population; the queen symbolized power and cruelty for them. They lived in the mistaken belief that they could eke out an existence as they knew it - as long as they followed the will of their monarch. What propaganda and official reports certainly did not tell them was their mental state. For she strove to retain power not out of greed but out of desperation.

"Our ostensible goal should be to appease the dragons. They have often felt like outsiders in the past. Yet they never stand out negatively, contributing much to the wealth of Taleria. The marriage between Prince Qundix and your daughter will be a first step, but you should once again remind them of descendants.“

"Good, set up a letter for me. I cannot tell you how glad I am to have a human prince as my steward. The idea of a dragon and my dear Cimala uniting - hideous.“ How much her derogatory and discriminatory words disgusted him, he did not allow leaking. Passionately, she was euphoric about customs and purity, yet she was the one who had kept a monstrous creature in the basement for years.

To his greatest chagrin, however, the queen was all too practiced in long and empty conversations like this, wanting to reflect where action was required. But reflection, her night-long musings, only led to her ever-growing madness. And when she did act, she took all actions to extremes.

Taleria would be reduced to rubble if she continued to act so emotionally. It would be a journey of no return, but what the country really needed was a new turn. But it had been a development he had willingly accepted - with all the consequences to be endured. It was time for him to take the right steps. More and more skillfully, he had faked presumed facts, profiting from the queen’s ignorance.

If he possessed the laboratories and research tools himself, he would have liked to try his hand at the magic himself. After all, he had credibly conveyed to the queen that he simply had not mastered this kind of magic, the invention of completely new spells. That had been an outright lie, because he would have been able to do it easily.  
But he also knew how much effort and how much magical energy this task required, and he was not willing to give away his resources for this madness. After all, once he reaped the queen’s disfavor, he would quickly lose his position.

"I think we should set a sign. The mages will never develop the spell as they promised. We should lock them up, and banish their powers.“ In the long run, they would have to destroy the mages completely. If they were not completely for the queen, they posed too great a risk as an independent faction.

For the queen, on the other hand, it was rather decisive that they did not fulfill their - impossible - mission adequately and certainly not satisfactorily. For her, "such behavior“ was unheard of, would never be tolerated by her. Crowley saw more the big picture, was interested in the long-term consequences. A complete overthrow was needed; only then would peace and order reign in the country.

"No, they knew what they were getting into.“ That decided what he had expected anyway, what he had already factored into his plans. "It will be difficult to catch all the mages at the same time. Other people would be harmed, as well. For this case, I would suggest-“

"There is no more differentiation for Artimaga,“ the queen replied coldly. "That chance is lost. The mages have never been loyal to me anyway.“ It was fortunate that he was not an ordinary mage, otherwise his fate would be in a bad way.

Had Crowley been another person, his former self, this prospect would have horrified and paralyzed him. Instead, he swallowed hard and caught himself the next moment.  
"Give the order.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up in a few days. :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think. :)


End file.
